ENGLISH 


i^RALDINE  E.  HODGSON 


d:  /  "3.  3Z_ 


LIBRARY  OF  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


PRINCETON,    N.    J. 


Purchased  by  the 
Mrs.  Robert  Lenox  Kennedy  Church   History  Fund. 


Division 

BV  5077  .G7  H62  1922 

Hodgson,  Geraldine  Emma, 

1865-1937. 

English  mystics 

ENGLISH  MYSTICS 


English  mystics 


BY  . 

GERALDINE  E/HODGSON,  Litt.D. 

Author  of  "  In  the  Way  of  the  Saints  "  ; 

"  A  Study  in  Illumination  "  ;    "  Criticism  at  a  Venture  " 

Editor  of  Richard  Rollers  "  Form  of  Perfect  Living  " 

"  Early  English  Instructions  and  T)evotions  " 


Quid  enim  mi  hi 

est  in  c^elo  ?  et  a  te  quid 

volui  super  terram  ? 

Ps.  Ixxii.  25  (Vulg.) 


A.  R.  MOWBRAY  &  CO.  Ltd. 

London:   28   Margaret  Street,   Oxford  Circus,   W.i 

Oxford  :   9    High   Street 

Milwaukee,  U.S.A.  :  The  Morehouse  Publishing  Co. 


First  impression,    1922 


TO 

A.  M.  N. 

AND 

A.  C.  W.  R. 


PREFACE 

IN  the  belief  that  not  a  few  people  are 
already  wearying  of  the  cult  of  material- 
ism and  modernity,  this  book  has  been 
written.  When  it  was  possible  reference  has 
been  made  to  books  and  editions  which  are 
not  only  procurable  with  reasonable  ease,  but 
which,  when  procured,  can  be  read  with  the 
same  by  ordinary  folk. 

I  have  not  attempted  to  write  an  encyclo- 
paedic handbook  which  should  detail  salient 
facts  about  every  English  writer  in  whom  the 
most  relentless  searcher  could  detect  a  speck 
of  mysticism  ;  but  I  have  tried  to  indicate 
the  particular  qualities,  the  racial  aroma  of 
English  Mysticism,  in  its  different  aspects, 
as  shown  by  men  and  women  of  widely 
separated  times  and  dissimilar  temperament 
and  environment. 

Scholars  may  perhaps  forgive  popularizing 
efforts  if  they  bring  within  the  reach  of  a 
great  mass  of  the  English  people  things  of 
great  price  which  should  be  our  common 
inheritance,  and  not  the  enclosed  garden  of 
a  very  few. 

To  compile  an  adequate  history  of  English 
Mysticism  would  consume  a  lifetime's  re- 
search, and  demand  more    volumes  than    the 

vii 


viii  Preface 

majority    of   people    now    would     dream    of 
reading. 

If  the  book  should  serve  to  restore  the 
idea  of  the  mystical  temper  as  a  desirable 
possibility  for  sane  and  practical  Englishmen, 
and  to  show  that,  in  varying  forms,  it  has 
been  in  every  age  not  only  a  possibility  but 
a  fact,  it  may  perhaps  prove  not  wholly  useless 
to  a  generation  marked  by  a  spirit  of  inquiry 
and  unsatisfied  desire. 

G.  E.  H. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction     -----  i 

The  nature  of  English  Mysticism — Meaning 
and  scope  of  the  word  Mysticism — The 
three  constituent  elements  in  Religion — 
Nature  Mysticism. 

CHAPTER  I 

The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism  -  13 

Some  characteristics  of  Early  English  Litera- 
ture— Creative  imagination — A  we  of  natural 
phenomena  and  forces — Tendency  to  per- 
sonify "  nature  "  and  "  things  "  —  High 
value  set  by  the  English  race  on  personality, 
and  on  non-material  qualities — Capacity  for 
endurance  —  Consciousness  of  the  "  extra- 
natural  " — Love  of  natural  beauty,  and  of 
solitude — The  mysticism  of  Cynewulf. 

CHAPTER  II 

English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages  -  -  59 

Brief  outline  of  Middle  English  Mysticism 
— Halt  Meidenhad — The  Ancren  Riwle — 
Contemplation  and  activity  —  Sensationist 
and  Intellectualist  Psychology — Attitude 
of  English   Mystics  to    the   Five    Senses. 


X  Contents 

CHAPTER  III 

PAGE 

The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages  -        104 

The  place  of  Richard  Rolle — His  personal 
character  :  the  nature  of  his  mysticism — 
The  author  of  The  Epistle  of  Prayer  and 
Walter  Hilton  on  the  Purgative  Way — 
Rolle's  eulogy  on  love  —  English  Mystics 
and  our  Lord's  humanity — Rolle  on  detach- 
ment— The  Qloud  of  Unknovpitig — Mother 
Julian's  horror  of  sin — S.  Bonaventura's 
Privity  of  the  Passion — Mother  Julian  and 
Rolle  on  illumination — Rolle  on  union — 
Walter  Hilton  and  the  contemplative  life, 
and  the  Purgative  Way — Mother  Julian  and 
union — The  Song  of  Aiigels — ^n  Epistle  oj 
Discretion. 

CHAPTER  IV 

English  Mystics  of  the  Seventeenth  Century  -        172 

The  Middle  Ages  and  the  Revival  of  Learn- 
ing— European  divisions  in  the  sixteenth 
century  —  Father  Augustine  Baker  and 
Dame  Gertrude  More — Her  character — 
Mental  Prayer — Father  Baker  as  Director. 

CHAPTER  V 

Anglo-Catholic  Mystics  and  Others    -  -        208 

Manchester  al  Mondo — Sir  Thomas  Browne 
— Henry  Vaughan  —  Richard  Crashaw — 
John  Donne — Thomas  Traherne — Other 
mystics — John  Bunyan  —  Father  Richard 
White's  Celestial  Fire — Seventeenth  century 
characteristics. 


Contents  xi 

CHAPTER  VI 

PAGE 

Nature  Mystics  -  -  -  -        273 

Cynewulf's  Guthlac  and  The  Qhrist — The 
Thoen'ix  —  William  Law  —  Digression  on 
Newman  and  Baron  von  Hilgel  concerning 
ways  of  "  coming  to  God  " — William  Law, 
continued — Traherne — Wordsworth. 

CHAPTER  VII 

The  Tractarians  and  After     -  -  -        312 

The  Tractarian  Movement — John  Henry 
Newman,  his  mystical  temperament  and 
philosophic  methods — James  Mozley's  letter 
on  Newman's  secession — Isaac  Williams 
and  John  Keble — Their  "  inopportune  " 
Tracts  —  Dr.  Pusey  on  purgation — Dean 
Church — Recent  mystics — Father  George 
Tyrrell  —  The  characteristics  of  English 
Mysticism. 

Principal  Books  mentioned  _  _  _        380 

Index  -  -  -  -       .       -        383 


ENGLISH   MYSTICS 


INTRODUCTION 

READERS  of  Huysmans'  La  Cathedrak 
may  remember  how  he  apportioned 
^  the  mediaeval  Mysticism,  as  exempli- 
fied in  the  Fine  Arts,  to  the  various  European 
nations  :  "  La  France  n'a  eu,  dans  la  repar- 
tition de  I'art  religieux,  que  I'architecture.  .  .  . 
Les  peintres  et  aussi  les  sculpteurs  sont  tous 
italiens,  espagnols,  flamands,  allemands.  .  .  . 
Et  il  en  est  de  m^me  des  ecrivains  mystiques. 
A  quoi  bon  enumerer  les  nationalites  diverses 
auxquelles  ils  appartiennent  ?  Eux  aussi  sont 
espagnols,  italiens,  flamands,  allemands  ;  pas 
un  n'est  fran9ais."!i  He  was  referring  spec- 
ially to  the  twelfth,  thirteenth,  and  fourteenth 
centuries.  It  seems  strange,  even  though 
Gothic  building  did  reach  its  utmost  per- 
fection in  the  He  de  France,  that  he  should  so 
entirely  have  forgotten  or  swept  aside  all  the 
great  cathedrals  and  the  rather  abundant 
mystical  literature  of  England  ;  stranger  still 
when    we    realize    that    the    most  perfect  and 

'    J.  K.  Huysmans,  La  Cathedrak,  p.  88. 


2  English  Mystics 

precious  portions  of  English  Mysticism  belong 
to  just  the  centuries  which  he  had  then  in 
mind. 

This  book  makes  no  claim  to  present  a 
detailed  and  exhaustive  criticism  of  mystical 
writings  in  the  English  tongue,  nor  to  offer 
a  complete  or  incomplete  anthology  from  these. 
Its  main  justification,  if  it  have  one,  is  the  belief 
that  English  Mysticism,  while  it  does  and 
must,  in  its  main  features,  resemble  all  genuine 
mysticism,  yet  has  distinct  characters  of  its 
own,  which  shine  clearly  and  obviously  in 
those  writers  whose  debt  to  non-English 
predecessors  is  small  or  none,  and  break 
through  that  foreign  influence  even  where 
it  exists,  showing  by  elaboration  or  addition 
the  marked  features  of  the  indigenous  attitude. 
As  additional  justification  I  would  plead  that 
this  English  contribution  is  not  less  individual 
and  valuable  than  that  of  the  Platonist 
Christian  writers,  of  the  great  Latin  Mystics 
(of  classical  and  later  ages),  of  the  Flemings 
or  Germans.  This  is,  no  doubt,  a  daring 
claim. 

It  may  be  wise,  since  the  words  mystic, 
mysticism,  and  mystical  are  often  nowadays 
used  very  loosely  by  more  or  less  casual  and 
uninstructed  people,  to  make  quite  clear  the 
meaning  to  be  attached  to  them  here.  Some- 
times a  claim  is  made  that  no  genuine  mysticism 
exists  or  can  exist  outside  the  Roman  commu- 


Introauction  3 

nion.^  It  may  be  conceded  at  once  that  the 
stricter  the  Catholicism  surrounding  the 
mystic,  the  less  danger  does  he  suffer  of  fall- 
ing into  the  vagaries  of  individual  eccentricity, 
the  less  likely  is  he  to  stray  into  unorthodoxy. 
But  that  is  a  very  different  matter  from  admit- 
ting that  no  one  outside  the  Latin  communion 
has  been  or  can  be  a  mystic.  However,  this 
claim  has  never  been  officially  made.  It  is 
not  easy  to  believe  that  it  ever  would  be  made 
the  matter  of  an  infallible  pronouncement. 

Nevertheless  it  is  wise  and  desirable  to 
differentiate  ;  the  mysticism  of  S.  John  of  the 
Cross,  for  instance,  is  not  that  of  Philo,  or 
Plotinus,  or  William  Law,  or  Traherne  ;  but 
while  differences  must  be  acknowledged,  and 
may  be  accounted  for,  it  is  an  abuse  of  language 
to  deny  that  fundamental  similarity  of  attitude 
which  entitles  each  one  of  them  to  the  name 
of  mystic.  It  cannot  truly  be  denied  that 
from  Plotinus,  who  was  an  opponent  of  Chris- 
tianity, Christian  mystics  for  generations  drew 
inspiration  ;  yet  Dom  Louismet  explicitly 
refuses  him  the  name  of  mystic. 2  Setting 
aside   this    plea    of    entire    exclusiveness,    it 

*  cf.  Mysticism — True  and  False,  by  Savinien  Louismet, 
O.S.B.,  ch.  vil.  Dom  Louismet,  however,  softens  the 
proposition  by  admitting  the  theory  of  "  the  soul  of  the 
Church."  The  whole  chapter  should  be  read  by  any  one 
desiring  to  grasp  his  full  position. 

2  ibid.,  p.  48. 


4  English  Mystics 

remains  to  ask,  What  is  the  core  of  mysticism  ? 
What  is  the  essential  nature  of  that  condition 
which  justly  wins  the  title  mystical  ?  It  is 
that  whole  state  which  may  be  described  as 
the  desire  for,  the  attitude  and  conduct  which 
lead  to,  and  the  achievement  in,  an  atmosphere 
of  love,  of  direct  intercourse  between  the 
human  spirit  and  God  Who  created  it  ;  it  is, 
to  use  an  image  of  mystical  theology,  the 
bursting  into  a  little  flame  of  that  "  spark  at 
the  apex  of  the  soul,"  which  all  the  while  had 
its  origin  in  the  great  flame  of  the  divine  Fire, 
and  which,  having  burnt  upwards,  is  at  last 
mingled  with  its  Source. 

o 

This  mystic  "touch,"  this  vision,  this  "  direct 
communication  "  is  not  to  be  had  at  will  ;  all 
mystics  agree  that  it  is  the  gift  of  God,  and 
comes  when  and  how  and  for  how  long  He 
pleases.  At  the  same  time  certain  human 
predispositions  are  essential,  though  the  pres- 
ence of  these  does  not  necessarily  ensure  the 
coming  of  the  gift,  a  fact  urged  extremely 
clearly  and  emphatically  by  S.  Teresa  :  "  At 
last  it  happened  to  me,  and  it  still  happens 
sometimes,  that  our  Lord  shows  me  greater 
secrets,  but  so  that  I  only  see  what  it  pleases 
Him  to  show  me,  without  its  being  in  the  power 
of  my  soul,  when  she  wishes,  to  see  anything 
beyond."  ^     And  again  :  "  This  fire  of  the  true 

'  The  ^Autobiography  ofS.  Teresa^  ch.  xxxviii. 


Introduction  5 

love  of  God,  which  comes  from  above,  is  so 
utterly  supernatural,  that  with  my  utmost  de- 
sires and  efforts,  I  could  not  obtain  one  single 
spark  if  the  divine  Master,  as  I  said  elsewhere, 
did  not  grant  it  to  me  as  a  pure  gift."  ^ 

The  expression  "in  an  atmosphere  of  love  " 
needs  explication  and  some  fencing  off  from 
possible  misapprehension.  Mysticism  is  not 
sentimentality,  nor  emotionalism,  nor  flabby 
desire  which  refuses  to  pay  the  hard  price  of 
attainment.  Mystical  love  includes  that  self- 
searching  cleanness  which  will  not  acquiesce  in 
spots  and  stains,  but  resolutely  tries,  here  to 
avoid,  there  by  penitence  to  efface,  them  ;  that 
thorough-going  self-stripping  which  aims  at 
the  removal  or  destruction  of  everything — 
even  of  things  lawful  in  themselves — which 
may  block  the  way  between  a  given  soul  and 
God,  that  unreserved  self-surrender  which 
gives  all,  not  whispering  somewhere  in  the 
recesses  of  a  fearful  heart  "  Everything  but 
that."  Da  totum  pro  toto,  said  S.  Thomas 
a  Kempis  ;  and  lest  that  should  prove  too 
hard  a  saying  for  frail  humanity,  he  adds  the 
time-long  truth,  whose  reality  experience  has 
proved  again  and  again.  Sine  dolore  non  vivitur 
in  amore. 

Here  perhaps  a  caution  may  be  necessary. 
Though  willingness  to  surrender  all  is  essen- 

^  ibid.,  ch.  xxxix. 


6  English  Mystics 

tial,  the  performance  is  not  always  demanded 
in  the  most  absolute  and  thorough  sense.  This 
fact  seems  to  have  been  overlooked  by  Mr. 
Robert  H.  Thouless,  who,  in  an  article  entitled 
"  Religious  Conversion  and  Modern  Psychol- 
ogy,^ makes  this  startling  statement  :  "  We 
may  notice  ...  a  curious  feature  which  makes 
the  records  of  mystical  conversion  singularly 
repellent  even  to  readers  who  are  themselves 
religious,  and  on  the  whole  sympathetic  to- 
wards mysticism.  This  is  the  indiscriminate 
repression  of  human  activities  which  other 
people  regard  as  good  with  those  which  are 
generally  considered  bad.  The  convert  of  the 
ordinary  type  abandons  drink  and  tries  to  lead 
a  decent  life.  With  his  conversion  we  can 
sympathize.  But  when  we  find  the  mystical 
convert  not  merely  treating  his  body  with 
unreasonable  severity,  but  also  abandoning  all 
the  decent  and  beautiful  ties  of  human  affection, 
and  refusing  to  live  a  life  of  social  and  religious 
usefulness,  we  feel  that  this  is  something  with 
which  no  reasonable  person  can  have  any 
sympathy.  Yet  the  inner  necessity  which 
drives  the  mystic  to  these  excesses  is  un- 
doubtedly a  reality  for  him.  Suso  and  other 
mystics  have  felt  the  temptation  to  lead  an 
ordinary  decent  and  respectable  Christian  life 
as  the  most  subtle  and  dangerous  temptation 

^  Theology,  Feb.,  192  i. 


Introduction  7 

they  had  to  face.  For  them  it  was  clearly 
a  choice  between  repressing  all  activities  which 
gave  them  pleasure,  and  failing  altogether  in 
the  attainment  of  their  goal."  He  sums  up, 
briefly,  thus — speaking  of  a  curious  and  abnor- 
mal case  of  a  drunkard  :  "  We  have  here  in  a 
simple  form  an  example  of  that  suppression,  so 
characteristic  of  mystical  conversion,  of  desires 
which  are  commonly  regarded  as  good  as  well 
as  those  which  are  recognized  to  be  evil."  ^ 

Since  Mr.  Thouless  claims  to  be  treating 
"  religious  conversion  from  the  point  of  view 
of  scientific  psychology,"  ^  the  longer  passage 
I  have  quoted  seems  gravely  wanting  in  accur- 
acy and  consistency.  The  charge  of  "repression" 
is  first  launched  against  mystics  as  a  band,  and 
dwindles  down  to  "  Suso  and  other  mystics." 
Secondly,  "  decent  and  beautiful  ties  of  human 
affection"  are  not  synonymous  and  co-extensive 
with  "all  activities  which  give  them  pleasure"  ; 
the  last  word  being  one  of  the  loosest  of 
psychological  terms.  Setting  aside  these  con- 
tradictions and  taking  the  general  drift  of  the 
statement,  it  must  be  challenged  as  one  of  the 
strangest  of  misrepresentations  of  a  human 
condition,  so  frequently  misunderstood  and 
misrepresented.  "  Decent  and  beautiful  ties 
of  human  affection  "  must  include,  if  they  go 
beyond,  the  love  of  children  for  parents,  the 

'  ibid.,  p.  73.  2  ibid.,  p.  79. 


8  English  Mystics 

love  of  brothers  and  sisters,  the  love  of  friends. 
We  may  urge,  then,  against  this  monstrous 
claim,  the  spiritual  friendship  which  did  such 
service  to  his  over-sensitive  soul,  between 
Margaret  Kirkby,  the  nun  of  Anderby,  and 
Richard  Rolle  ;  the  care  of  Walter  Hilton  for 
his  "ghostly  sister  in  Christ  Jesus,"  for  whose 
instruction  he  wrote  The  Scale  of  Terfection. 
We  may  reflect  on  the  home  relations  of  S. 
Catherine  of  Siena — clouded  for  a  while  by  her 
parents'  misapprehension  of  the  real  state  of 
affairs,  but  never  by  wilful  act  of  her  own — 
and  upon  that  numerous  and  varied  throng 
of  friends  and  learners  who  gathered  round 
her  ;  we  may  recall  the  whole  life  of  generous 
service  to  others  of  S.  Francois  de  Sales,  a  life 
full  of  exquisite  friendships.  Perhaps  most 
telling  of  all,  we  may  meditate  on  S.  Teresa's 
manifold  interests,  many  friendships,  love  for, 
pride  in,  gratitude  to  her  father  and  her 
brother  Lorenzo,  her  unfailing  humanity,  her 
sparkling  wit  and  humour.  These  few  in- 
stances, which  could  be  multiplied,  are  drawn 
from  four  different  European  nations,  from 
perhaps  the  four  most  significant  in  Europe's 
life  and  story. 

The  Institutional,  the  Speculative,  and  the 
Mystical  ;  these,  in  Baron  von  HUgel's  lucid 
theory,   are    the  three  elements  of  Religion.^ 

'  Friedrich  von  Hiigel,  The  Mystical  Element  of  Religion, 
vol.  1,  pp.  50-3. 


Introduction  9 

Where  all  are  essential,  it  is  idle  to  attempt 
exact  relative  appraisement ;  but  at  least  of 
the  third  it  may  be  said  that  it  has  reached  to 
the  very  centre  of  life.  The  Jewish  Temple 
worship,  saturated  with  ritual  and  ceremonial, 
was  indeed  ornate.  Filled  with  symbolism, 
gorgeous  in  externals,  it  could  vie  with  the 
most  splendid  pomp  of  Rome,  of  the  orthodox 
East,  or  of  our  reviving  Provinces.  But  in  the 
midst  of  all  that  external,  divinely,  definitely 
ordered  splendour,  there  came,  out  of  the 
innermost  heart  and  experience  of  devout 
visionaries  —  kings,  priests,  prophets  —  the 
mystical  Book  of  Psalms.  "  What  have  I  in 
heaven  but  Thee  .?  and  there  is  none  upon 
earth  that  1  desire  but  Thee."  ^  The  Vulgate 
has,  moreover,  those  two  wonderful  renderings, 
"  Benjamin,  there,  a  youth,  in  ecstasy  of  mind" ;  ^ 
and  "  Thou  enlightenest  wonderfully  from  the 
everlasting  hills."  3 

The  ceremonial  and  the  vision  were  not 
incompatibles,  they  were  not  even  merely  con- 
current streams,  but  two  parts  of  one  whole. 
Still,  in  every  whole  there  must  be  one  part 
which  is  the  very  core  ;  the  mystical  is  surely 
that.  Rite  and  ceremonial,  vestments,  incense, 
lights,  music,  lift  the  soul  (or  at  any  rate  some 
souls,  and  those  not  the  poorest)  to  the  very 
gates  of  heaven  ;    but  the   mystic's  uttermost 

^  Ps.  Ixxiii.  24.        ^  ibid.,  Ixvii.  28.       3  ibid.,  Ixxv.  5. 


lo  English  Mystics 

self-surrender  carries  him  to  the  sacred  Heart, 
brings  him  to  the  immediate  Presence  of 
God. 

Pages,  volumes  indeed,  could  be,  have  been 
written  about  the  fundamental  nature  of 
mysticism  ;  but  little  further  essential  explana- 
tion can  be  added  to  that  which  has  been  said 
above.  However  voluminous  the  elucidations, 
or  elaborate  the  illustrations,  must  it  not  all 
come  at  last  to  some  such  simple  phrase  as 
direct  communication,  in  an  atmosphere  of 
love,  between  the  human  spirit  and  its  divine 
Source  } 

But  the  manifestations  of  mysticism  are  not 
to  be  dealt  with  thus  simply  ;  and  in  the 
variety  of  these  manifestations,  English  Mysti- 
cism exhibits  some  singular  traits.  In  the  course 
of  the  last  ten  centuries  there  have  been  not  a 
few  whose  mysticism  lies  as  evenly  and  truly 
between  the  accustomed  orthodox  limits  as 
any  which  can  be  found  among  men  and  women 
of  other  European  races  ;  whose  whole  spirit, 
outlook,  and  behaviour  are  religiously  orthodox 
in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  words  :  who  ap- 
proached God  through  and  by  means  of  the 
ordinary  religious  exercises  of  Catholic  Chris- 
tianity, and  using  them,  finally  transcended 
their  bounds  as  those  are  fixed  for  less  intuitive 
mortals,  thus  joining  the  mystics  ;  yet  as 
English  mystics  adding  to  the  common  stock 
of  that  particular  kind  of  religious  experience, 


Introduction  1 1 

something  racial,  possibly  something  individual, 
their  own  distinct  contribution. 

Not  less  markedly  some  others,  for  example 
Traherne  very  notably,  and  in  varying  degree 
Wordsworth,  Henry  Vaughan  and  his  brother 
Thomas,  with  a  few  more,  have  come  by 
another  path  :  they  have  been  brought  by  the 
mysteries  and  still  more  by  the  beauties  of  that 
physical  world  which  after  all  is  God's  handi- 
work. It  is  quite  possible  that  a  racial  peculi- 
arity may  account,  at  least  in  part,  for  their 
way.  Any  careful  student  of  English  literature 
as  a  whole  must  know  that  a  vein  of  awareness 
of,  often  deepening  into  inextinguishable  love 
for,  all  the  processes  and  aspects  of  external 
nature  runs  through  most  of  our  poetry,  and  is 
not  unknown  in  our  prose.  A  similar  attitude  is 
to  be  found  in  these  particular  mystics,  and 
those  who,  meeting  it  there  dismiss  it  as  "mere 
pantheism,"  seem  in  danger  of  denying  the 
elementary  Christian  tenet  that  God,  and  He 
alone,  made  the  world  and  all  its  other  inhabi- 
tants as  well  as  man,  and  of  forgetting  that  to 
belittle  the  natural  world  comes  dangerously 
near  to  despising  its  Author.  They  seem  too 
precipitate  and  temerarious  if  they  will  persist 
in  maintaining  that  those  who  are  led  to  Him 
through  natural  phenomena,  and  even  those 
who  only  grope  for  Him  mistily  along  such 
ways,  can  never  come  to  deserve,  if  they  do 
not  dare  to  claim  always,  the  name  "  Friends 


12  English  Mystics 

of  God,"  a  title  which  belongs  not  only  to  the 
members  of  Tauler's  great  society  in  fourteenth- 
century  Strasburg,  and  has  been  borne  by 
many  another  acknowledged  mystic,  but  goes 
back  to  the  Wisdom  literature  of  pre-Christian 
days :  "  For  She  [Wisdom]  is  an  infinite  treasure 
to  men,  which  they  that  use,  become  the 
friends  of  God,  being  commended  for  the  gifts 
which  come  of  discipline."  ^ 

'  Wisdom  vii.  14. 


CHAPTER   I 

The  Beginnings  of  English 
Mysticism 

PERHAPS  as,  so  far  as  I  know,  such 
a  thing  has  not  been  attempted  from 
this  particular  angle  of  observation,  it 
may  be  well,  as  a  preliminary  to  a  study  of 
acknowledged  mystics,  to  note  some  contri- 
butary  characteristics,  rising  possibly  here  and 
there  to  real  adumbrations  of  future  attain- 
ment, in  our  earlier  literature  ;  a  period  and 
a  volume  of  often  beautiful  work  too  little 
esteemed  or  known  by  the  mass  even  of 
those  who  might  call  themselves  general 
readers. 

The  beginnings  of  English  literature  include 
the  purely  pagan  work  either  brought  by  the 
Saxons  in  the  fifth  and  sixth  centuries,  or 
composed  by  some  of  them  after  their  settle- 
ment in  England,  and  also  that  which  was 
coloured  by  the  introduction  of  Latin  Chris- 
tianity in  the  South  in  the  sixth  century, 
and  of  Irish-Celtic  Christianity  in  Northum- 
bria,  after  Paulinus'  flight  when  Eadwine  was 
killed  at  Hatfield.  Both  were  almost  destroyed 
by    the    Danish     devastations     in     the     ninth 

13 


14  English  Mystics 

century — those  plunderings,  sackings,  and 
burnings  which  were  so  thorough  and  relent- 
less that  all  records  might  have  been  lost  had 
England  not  found  in  Alfred  a  philosopher- 
king,  who  first  beat  back  the  invaders,  and 
then,  by  means  of  foreign  scholars  and  his 
own  literary  energy,  rescued  his  country  from 
overwhelming  ignorance,  sweeping  on  like 
a  flood. 

It  is  sobering  to  reflect  on  the  fortuitous 
threads  upon  which  English  literature  hung 
when  Alfred  came  to  his  own  :  sobering,  because 
so  slight  a  thing  might  have  snapped  them 
altogether.  To  his  eflForts  are  due  the  pre- 
servation and  probably  the  elaboration  or 
The  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle^  the  earliest  national 
history  in  any  North  European  vernacular  ; 
and  to  his  activity  in  translating  standard 
Latin  works  into  Anglo-Saxon  we  owe  the 
Pastoral  Rule  of  S.  Gregory,  Boethius'  Conso- 
lation of  Philosophy^  Orosius'  History  of  the 
Worlds  in  the  speech  of  his  own  country  and 
time.  The  beginnings  of  our  prose  must 
ever  be  connected  with  his  name.  How  the 
bulk  of  the  poetry  composed  in  the  earlier 
ages  was  preserved  from  the  Danish  devasta- 
tion remains  a  mystery  ;  but  the  facts  are  that, 
apart  from  the  poem  of  our  earliest  begin- 
nings, 'Beowulf  the  manuscript  of  which  is  in 
the  British  Museum,  by  far  the  greater  part 
of  our   early  English  poetry  is    contained  in 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism      1 5 

one  manuscript,  the  Exeter  Book,  which  fell  into 
the  hands  of  Leofric,  first  Bishop  of  Exeter, 
who  gave  it,  in  the  eleventh  century,  to  his 
cathedral  library  ;  and  in  one  other,  the  Vercelli 
"Bookj  found  by  what  men  call  chance  in 
the  Chapter  Library  of  Vercelli,  so  lately  as 
1882.  Outside  Beowulf  and  the  renderings  or 
Old  and  New  Testament  stories  generally 
ascribed  to  the  herdsman  of  Whitby  Monas- 
tery, Caedmon,  the  most  important  Anglo- 
Saxon  poetry  is  to  be  found  in  these  two 
manuscripts.  Had  Alfred  not  come  to 
England's  rescue,  it  seems  not  unlikely  that 
they  would  have  disappeared  for  ever.  Any 
one  who  has  not  realized  the  slender  chances 
of  the  preservation  of  classics  amid  the 
disorder  and  chaos  which  recurred  so  often 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  will  find  a  graphic 
instance  in  J.  A.  Symonds'  presentation  of 
Poggio  Bracciolini's  rescue  of  Quintilian's 
Institutions  from  the  neglect  into  which  the 
monks  of  St.  Gall  had,  by  1414,  allowed  their 
library  to  fall.^  Though  that  generation  was 
careless,  previous  ones  had  collected  and  cared 
for  countless  Greek  and  Latin  classics,  which, 
but  for  them,  might  have  perished.  England's 
danger  lay  in  the  fact  that  the  Danish  destruc- 
tion of  monasteries  and  of  cathedral  libraries 
was  so  desperately  thorough. 

'  J.   A.   Symonds,   Renaissance  in   Italy,  vol.   ii,  pp.    98 
et  seq. 


1 6  English  Mystics 

In  his  preface  to  his  translation  of  S. 
Gregory's  Cura  Tastoralis,  Alfred  gives  us  an 
eye-witness'  testimony:  "It  has  very  often 
come  into  my  mind  .  .  .  how  foreigners 
came  to  this  land  in  search  of  wisdom  and 
learning,  and  how  we  should  now  have  to 
get  them  from  abroad  if  we  would  have 
them.  So  general  was  its  decay  among  the 
English  people  that  there  were  very  few  on 
this  side  of  the  Humber  who  could  under- 
stand their  services  in  English,  or  translate 
a  letter  from  Latin  into  English,  and  I  believe 
that  there  were  not  many  beyond  the  Humber. 
There  were  so  few  of  them  that  I  cannot 
remember  a  single  one  south  of  the  Thames 
when  I  came  to  the  throne,  .  .  .  When 
I  considered  all  this,  1  remembered  also  how 
I  saw  before  it  had  been  all  ravaged  and 
burnt  how  the  churches  throughout  the 
whole  of  England  stood  filled  with  treasures 
and  books." 

Alfred's  statement  is  not  hearsay,  but 
evidence.  Reflecting,  with  a  shiver,  on  the 
precariousness  of  a  book's  life,  students  may 
well  render  thanks  for  the  preservation  of  the 
Exeter  and  Vercelli  "Books. 

It  is  idle  to  pretend  that,  save  for  one, 
surely  indisputable,  exception,  traces  of  mystic- 
ism, in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word,  can  be 
found  in  our  native  early  poetry  ;  but  it  may 
be  justifiably    claimed    that    certain     marked 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism       1 7 

qualities  appear,  which,  if  they  persisted  in 
the  race,  might  help  in  later  times,  if  not 
actually  to  develop  mysticism,  at  any  rate  to 
provide  a  nursing-ground  for  it.  In  one 
respect  this  is  perhaps  understating  the  case, 
because  if  these  qualities  do  not  foreshadow 
the  distinctive  elements  of  the  more  "  ortho- 
dox "  side  of  English  Mysticism,  it  is  not, 
I  think,  extravagant  to  urge  that  they  hold  out 
some  promise  at  least  of  that  other  mystical 
attitude,  which  works  its  way  to  God  through 
the  natural  world  and  its  phenomena,  and 
which  has  unquestionably  appeared,  here  and 
there,  as  the  intellectual  and  spiritual  life  of 
the  nation  unfolded  through  the  centuries. 

Among  such  qualities  or  gifts,  the  peculiar 
capacity  of  arriving  at  the  essence  of  a  matter, 
and  so  of  drawing,  not  just  any  picture,  but 
the  one  and  only  apt  one,  and  this  by  means 
of  highly  picturesque,  suggestive  words,  will 
strike  any  attentive  student  of  Anglo-Saxon 
poetry  at  once.  Of  a  race  who  coined  scores 
and  scores  of  such  nouns  as  mere-streets  (for 
the  ship's  paths  over  the  sea),  slaughter-qualm, 
hearth-enjoyers,  battle-'^hirl-of-billo'^s,  vcater-fear, 
wave-strife,  battle-adders  (arrows),  glee-wood 
(harp)  ;  of  such  adjectives  as  ash-feathered, 
slaughter-greedy,  snake-coloured,  blood-marbled ; 
of  such  telling  phrases  as  the  dew-feathered 
eagle,  faithful  peace-weal^er,  gannei s-bath  (the 
sea),  the  ra'\»en  dar\  and  corpse-greedy,  the  rd^en 

c 


1 8  English  Mystics 

svcart  and  sallo'^-hrown^  winter-freezing  wretched- 
ness— to  choose  a  few  at  random — of  such 
a  race  great  feats  of  illumined  penetration,  of 
really  enlightened  understanding  might  be 
expected  to  develop  eventually.  No  doubt, 
the  main  element  in  this  verbal  picturesque- 
ness  is  imagination  proper,  the  faculty  of 
forming  mentally  an  image  of  some  object 
no  longer  present  to  sense.  But  into  such 
examples  as  those  given  above,  something 
enters  which  is  other  than  mere  reproduction  ; 
there  is  a  strand  in  them  of  genuine  creation. 
Psychologists  may  be  right  in  classing  repro- 
ductive imagination  with  the  rest  of  our 
"  sense  "  capacities  ;  but  creative  imagination 
includes  a  factor  which  belongs  to  the  region 
of  extra-sense. 

Still,  it  is  quite  true  that  mysticism  does 
not  depend  on  imagination  ;  indeed  S.  Teresa 
declared  herself  to  be  lacking  in  it  :  "  God  has 
not  given  me  the  talent  for  discursive  reason- 
ing, nor  that  of  helping  myself  with  the  fruits 
of  imagination.  This  latter  faculty  is  so  torpid 
in  my  case,  that  when  I  desire  to  picture  and 
represent  to  my  inner  thought  our  Lord's 
Humanity,  I  never,  whatever  effort  I  make, 
succeed."  ^  But  we  know  that  "  the  wind 
bloweth  where  it  listeth  "  ;  she  was  a  great 
mystic,    but    in    this    particular    an   exception. 

'  Life  of  S.  Teresa  by  herself,  ch.  iv. 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism       1 9 

As  a  rule,  the  mystics  have  not  failed  in  that 
special  kind  of  imagination,  which,  while  it 
serves — so  far  as  human  language  can  reach — 
for  the  expression  of  mystical  experience,  never 
can  invent  or  replace  that  experience. 

Again,  the  English  sense,  not  peculiar  to 
but  strongly  marked  in  them,  of  the  awe  and 
mystery  of  vast  tracts  of  space — containing, 
concealing  who  could  tell  what  ? — is  a  striking 
feature  in  our  earliest  pre-Christian  poetry,  in 
Widsith  and  Beowulf  for  example.  Small  as 
our  island  is,  we  have  always,  perhaps  by 
way  of  escape,  responded  to  spaciousness  of 
sea  and  sky,  and,  where  we  have  left  it,  to 
roominess  of  uncultivated  forest  and  moorland 
waste. 

Widsith  (if  it  really  be  the  name  01  a 
man)  in  the  earliest  English  poem  (if  it 
were  written  in  England  and  not  brought 
over  from  the  Continent)  describes  his 
wanderings  : — 

I  have  fared  thro'  many  stranger-lands,  thro'  the  spacious 
earth, 

adding  a  touch  which,  though  it  is  difficult  to 
indicate  exactly  where  or  how  it  is  achieved, 
has  a  curious,  visionary  gleam,  elusive  but 
real  : — 

where  beneath  the  sky  I  had  known  the  best 
Of  all  gold-embroidered  queens  giving  lavishly  her  gifts. 


20  English  Mystics 

These  lines  are  ancient,  no  one,  however  many- 
guesses  be  hazarded,  positively  knows  who 
made  them  ;  we  only  know  that  they  belong 
to  our  own  poetic  beginnings,  being  probably 
the  earliest  in  time  of  all  the  poetry  garnered 
in  the  Exeter  Book. 

The  same  consciousness  of  vast  spaces  and 
of  their  inherent  possibilities  occurs  over  and 
over  again  in  'Beowulf,  notably  in  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  fen-demon,  the  bog-and-morass 
fiend,  Grendel,  who  "in  everlasting  night  kept 
the  misty  moors."  His  coming  is  thus 
described  : — 

Then  from  the  moor  came 
Under  the  misty  hills 
Grendel  ganging, 
God's  wrath  (he)   bare. 

Under  the  clouds  he  strode.' 

A  third  and  more  important  element  in  our 
early  poetry  is  our  forefathers'  resolute  and 
persistent  personification  of  nature  and  of 
"  things."  When  a  speaker  at  the  first  Anglo- 
Catholic  Congress  asked  the  question  :  "  Is  it 
for  nothing  that  the  English  race  finds  its 
deepest  interest  and  its  most  certain  inspira- 
tion neither  in  the  laws  of  a  code,  nor  in  the 
structure  of  an   Institution,  but  In   the   great 

I  'Beotvulf,  11.  1424  et  seq. 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism      2 1 

mystery  of  personality  itself?"  ^  he  was  deal- 
ing with  one  of  the  fundamental  qualities  in 
the  English  character.  Another  speaker  dwelt 
on  the  same  theme  :  "  We  have  to  remember 
that  we  live  amongst  a  people  disposed  to  be 
impatient  of  any  sort  of  official  authority, 
especially  in  matters  of  religion,  but  prepared 
to  pay  almost  limitless  adoration  to  the  power 
of  personality."  -  This  characteristic  springs 
out  of  a  temperament  which,  in  the  last  resort, 
seems  to  find  the  "  sanctions "  of  conduct 
rather  by  its  emotional  than  its  intellectual 
resources  ;  a  fixed  rule  being  apparently  too 
galling  to  a  race  so  capable  of  responding  to 
the  varying  appeals  of  successive  leaders,  yet 
prone  to  insist  most  of  all  on  its  inalienable 
right,  as  it  views  life,  of  "  doing  as  it  likes," 
in  Matthew  Arnold's  famous  phrase,  its 
cherished  prerogative  of  choice  at  the  present 
instant.  This  absorbing  pre-occupation  with 
personality  accounts  for  not  a  few  of  our 
national  achievements,  successes  and  failures 
alike  ;  and  it  plays  a  vital  part  in  English 
Mysticism.  It  appears  in  the  earliest  records 
of  our  race.  It  has  even  been  claimed  that 
the    monster,    Grendel,    himself    is   a    signal 

'  Report  of  the  First  Anglo-QathoHc  Congress,  London, 
1920  :  Article,  "The  Witness  of  the  English  Church," 
by  the  Rev.  C.  S.  Gillett,  p.  121. 

=  ibid.,  Article,  "  Authority  in  Matters  of  Religion,"  by 
the  Rev.  N.  P.  Williams,  p.  64. 


22  English  Mystics 

instance  of  this  English  tendency  to  personify: 
"  He  is  the  impersonation  of  the  superstitious 
dread  which  men  felt  when  they  looked  from 
their  island  of  reclaimed  land  over  the  sur- 
rounding moors,  and  saw  the  strange  shapings 
of  the  clouds  upon  them  as  evening  fell,  and 
heard  through  the  mist  the  roaring  of  the 
sea."  J 

Further,  as  many  of  their  descendants  have 
done,  they  personified  more  subtly  still  by 
handing  on  their  own  powers,  feelings,  moods 
to  the  creatures,  the  trees,  to  so-called  inanimate 
things. 

In  the  dawn-days  of  all  races,  song,  as  we 
know,  is  pre-eminent  :  the  history,  all  the 
crucial,  racial  happenings  are  embedded,  for 
preservation's  sake,  in  song  ;  and  thus  the 
national  story  is  handed  down  traditionally. 
The  English  were  no  exception.  It  seems  as 
if  all  our  forefathers  sang  or  desired  to  do  so  : 
and  soon  it  came  natural  to  them  to  hand  on 
their  widely-spread  gift,  till  at  last  they  attributed 
it  to  all  and  sundry  even  beyond  the  limits  of 
the  human  family.  So  irrepressible  is  this 
impulse  to  song,  so  persistent  their  expectation 
of  it,  that  they  even  found  it  in  their  war- 
weapons — 

the  bright  coats-of-mail 
Sang  in  their  equipment. ' 

I  Stopford  A.  Brooke,  History  of  Early  Bnglish  Literature, 
vol.  i,  p.  51.  2  Beowulf,  11.  650  et  seq. 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism      23 
And  again — 

a  mighty  rush   he  made  ; 
With  his  war-bill, 
Sword-swing  withheld  not, 
So  that  on  her  head 
the  ringed-sword  sang 
a  roaring  war-song.^ 

Thus  with  "  Hrunting,"  the  sword  he  had 
borrowed  from  Hunferth,  did  Beowulf  be- 
labour Grendel's  mother. 

Similarly  in  the  Song  of  the  Fight  at 
Finnesburg — 

the  war-wood  resounds, 
Shield  to  shaft  answers. 

The  processes  of  Nature  too  are  invested 
with  personality — 

the  air  grows  gloomy, 
the  heavens  shed  tears, ^ 

and    the    very    funeral    pyre    shares     human 
passions — 

the  flame  devoured  it  all 

Of  guests  most  ravenous. 3 

The  same  tendency  persists  after  the  intro- 
duction of  Christianity.  The  Riddles,  pre- 
served in  the  Exeter  Bool^y  whether  or  no  the 
critics  be  right  who  ascribe  them  to  Cyne- 
wulfj   are    admittedly   post-Christian.     In    the 

^  ibid.,  11.  3043  et  seq. 

^  ibid.,  11.  2755  and  2756.    ^  ibid.,  1.  2249. 


24  English  Mystics 

twenty-first  of  these  the  sword  is  personified 
and  speaks  as  a  human  being  might  : — 

I'm  a  wondrous  wight  for  the  war-strife  shapen, 

Often  do   I   quell 
Breathing  men  with  battle  edges  .   .   . 

me  the  weary-with-wayfarings, 
Me  the  stout   in  battle  .   .   . 

Ranging  largely,   I'm  a  foe 
Cursed  of  all  weapons. 

The  tone  is  not  always,  as  here,  one  of 
triumph.  In  the  fifty-fourth  Riddle  the  spear, 
and  in  the  seventy-ninth  the  helmet,  are  in 
sorrowful  mood.  In  the  sixth  the  lament  or 
the  shield  is  even  more  elaborately  personal  : — 

I  am  all  alone  with  the  iron  wounded, 

By  the  swopd  slash'd  into,  sick  of  battle-work. 

Of  the  edges  weary  .   .   . 

Not  one  of  the  Leech-kin 
In  the  folk-stead  could  I   find  out. 
Who  with  herbs  he  has  there  should  heal  my  wound  ; 
But  the  notching  on  my  edges  more  and  more  becomes 
Through  the  deadly  stroke  of  swords,  in  the  daylight,  in 
the  night. 

Perhaps  of  them  all,  that  very  English 
weapon,  the  ashen-bow,  rises,  in  its  mood 
of  triumphant  aggression,  to  the  sharpest  out- 
burst of  human  emotion — 

A  Wight  well-wrought  am  I,  for  war  enshapen  : 

If  it  chance  I  bend  myself  and  from  out  my  bosom  fareth 

Venomous  an  (adder)  sting,  then  I'm  all  on  fire.' 

*  Riddle  xxiv. 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism       2  5 

We  may  compare  with  this  the  lines  in 
Cynewult's   Elene — 

the  ash-spears  flew, 
Battle-adders,' 

This  persistent  personification  of  the  non- 
human  is  a  proof  of  the  value  set  by  the 
English,  then  as  now,  on  personality,  whatever 
be  meant  by  that  perplexing  word.  Even  in 
their  most  pagan-days  the  English  were  some- 
thing beyond  materialists.  Beowulf,  on  the 
eve  of  his  great  contest  with  the  "  fire-worm," 
says  : — 

to  us   it  shall  be  at  the  mound 

as  Wyrd,  lord  of  every  man, 

Shall  to  us  decree. 

I  am  resolute  in  mind 

So  that  against  the  war-fly 

I  lay  aside  vaunt. ^ 

The  end  of  the  struggle  demonstrates  that 
love  for  a  commanding  personality  which  is  so 
essentially  English  ;  it  demonstrates  not  less 
the  superiority  of  human  love  and  will  to  any 
material  means  to  success.  Beowulf,  struggling 
with  the  appalling  monster,  strikes  him  with 
another  famous  sword,  "Naegling,"  which,  like 
"Hrunting,"  earlier  in  the  poem,  fails:  Naeg- 
ling  "bit  less  strongly."  Then  the  young 
warrior,  Wiglaf,  watching,  among  his  fellows, 

*  Elene,  1.  140.  =  Beozvulf,  11.  5045  et  seq. 


26  English  Mystics 

from  afar,  this  unequal  single  combat,  cannot 
bear  it,  and  crying — 

God  knows 
that  to  me  it  is  far  preferable 
that  my  body 
should  clasp  fire 
with  my  Giver-of-gold, 

though  the  rest  stay,  he  wades  "  through  the 
deadly  reek,"  calling  to  his  chief — 

Beloved  Beowulf 

Do  all  things  well, 

as  thou  in  youthful  life 

long  ago  didst  say 

that  thou  would'st  not  let, 

life  being  in  thee, 

thy  greatness  sink. 

Together,  with  lesser  weapons  than  "  Naeg- 
ling  "  which  broke  at  the  second  stroke,  they 
at  last — 

scored 
the  worm  in  the  middle. 

The  help  came  too  late  to  save  Beowulf, 
who  must  die  of  the  "  fire  "  which  the  "  worm  " 
breathed  into  him.  Though  part  of  his  mission 
was  to  rescue  the  treasure  wrongly  held  by  the 
fire-worm  in  his  sea-cave,  Beowulf,  at  the  point 
of  death,  does  not  put  that  treasure  first.  His 
real  concern  is  for  his  own  fidelity  to  duty. 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism      27 

faithfulness    to    what    Newman    called    "  the 
light":- 

In  my  land  I  have  sustained  vicissitudes, 

Held  my  own  well,  sought  no  treacheries, 

Nor  swore  many  oaths  unrighteously. 

I,  for  all  this  may,  sick  with  many  wounds, 

Have  joy  ;  because  the  Ruler  of  men 

Need  not  upbraid  me  with  deadly  injury  of  kinsmen, 

When  from  my  body  life  shall  take  leave. 

Now  go  thou  quickly  the  hoard  to  view 

Under  the  hoar  stone,  Wiglaf  beloved  ; 

Now  the  Worm  lieth,  sorely-wounded  sleepeth. 

Bereft  of  his  treasure.     Be  now  in  haste. 

That  I  may  perceive,  the  ancient  wealth,  gold-treasure. 

Curious  gems,  that  I  may  the  softlier 

After  the  treasure-wealth  resign  my  life  and  people 

That  I  long  have  held. 

Moreover,  on  Beowulf's  funeral-pyre,  the 
treasure,  for  which  in  part  he  gave  his  life, 
was  sacrificed — 

They  left  the  treasure  of  Earls  to  Earth  to  hold, 
Gold  in  the  dust,  where  it  now  yet  remains, 
To  men  as  useless  as  ever  it  was. 

Honour,  fealty,  duty,  not  treasure,  were  the 
goal  of  our  far-off  forbears,  Beowulf  and  his 
trusty  liege-man  Wiglaf. 

Of  this  passage  Mr.  Stopford  Brooke  wrote  : 
"  Beowulf  knows,  as  he  goes  forth  to  the 
dragon,    that   Wyrd  ^    will    now    conquer    his 

'  Wyrd,  the  terrible  English  Fate-goddess,  presiding 
over   human   destiny,  wa»   not  theoretically   the   supreme 


28  English  Mystics 

body,  but  she  shall  not  conquer  his  soul.  The 
moral  triumph  is  attained,  and  fate,  not  Beowulf, 
is  really  conquered  in  the  contest  "  : — 

to  us  it  shall  be  at  the  mound 
As  Wyrd,  the  lord  of  every  man, 
Shall  to  us  decree. 
I  am  resolute  in  mind. 

Is  it  fanciful  to  wonder  if  W.  E.  Henley 
"  threw  back "  to  this  primitive  attitude  in 
"The  Song  of  the  Sword,"  and  specially  in 
the  often-quoted — 

Out  of  the  night  that  covers  me 
Black  as  the  pit  from  pole  to  pole, 

I  thank  whatever  gods  may  be 
For  my  unconquerable  soul.' 

The  'Riddles  belong  to  Christianized  England 
if  not  to  Christianity.  But  even  while  they 
were  still  pagan.  Englishmen,  as  S^ow«^  shows, 
could  have  an  inkling  of  the  true  nature  of 
value  ;  they  could  at  least  dream  that  love,  not 
selfishness,  spirit,  not  body,  were,  in  the  last 
resort,  the  only  Realities.  The  well-known 
story  —  Bede  tells  it  —  belonging  to  pagan 
Northumbria  in  the  year  a.d.  627  illustrates 
this  fact,  that  a  heathen  man  could  discern  that 
it  is  the  spiritual  forces,  lying  all  round  and 

power  ;  but  popular  thought  often  allowed  her  to  slip  into 
the  first  place  :  her  grim  shadow  lay  swart  across  everyday 
life. 

'  W.  E.  Henley,  Poems,  pp.  49  and  119. 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism      29 

under  our  visible  life,  which  alone  can  give 
sense  and  meaning  to  its  problems,  and  redeem 
humanity  from  blank  materialism.  Eadwine, 
the  king,  sitting  with  his  council,  to  listen  to 
Paulinus,  was  little  helped,  we  gather,  by  the 
cynical  worldliness  of  his  "  elder-priest  "  C^fi, 
and  so  turned  to  hear  the  aged  warrior,  stand- 
ing among  his  fellow  thanes  and  declaring  : 
"  Such  to  me,  O  king,  appears  this  present  life 
of  man  on  earth  in  comparison  with  that  time 
which  to  us  is  unknown,  like  as  if  thou  wast 
sitting,  feasting  with  thine  ealdormen  and 
thanes  in  wintertide,  the  fire  kindled,  thy  hall 
warmed,  and  it  rains  and  snows  and  hails  and 
storms  without.  Comes  then  a  sparrow  and 
quickly  flies  through  the  house,  goes  through 
one  door  in,  through  the  other  door  out.  Lo  ! 
he,  in  the  time  that  he  is  within,  is  not  wet 
with  the  winter's  storm  ;  but  that  is  but  for 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye  and  the  least  instant, 
and  he  soon  cometh  ao^ain  into  the  winter  of 
winters.  Like  him,  this  life  of  men  appears 
for  a  little  time  ;  what  goes  before,  or  what 
after,  we  know  not.  If  therefore  this  new  lore 
bring  aught  more  clear,  more  fit,  it  is  worth 
that  we  follow  it." 

Translated  thus,  literally  almost  word  for 
word,  Bede's  tale  gives  us  a  vivid  notion  of 
the  wistful,  visionary  attitude  which  was  at 
least  possible  in  early  England.  He  may, 
in  telling  it,  have  coloured  the  story  ;  but  it 


30  English  Mystics 

matters  little  who  uttered  it,  it  is  the  view  of 
some  Englishman  not  later  than  the  first  quarter 
of  the  eighth  century  :  though  had  Bede  altered 
it  he  would  almost  certainly  have  changed  the 
wistful  old  warrior's  dream  into  a  definitely 
Christian  assertion. 

Once  more,  no  student  of  our  early  life  and 
literature  can  fail  to  be  struck  by  the  capacity 
for  endurance  shown  again  and  again.  It  is 
not  insensibility  or  indifference,  but  a  deliberate 
suppression  of  immediate  desire  for  the  sake 
of  a  distant  satisfaction  ;  the  steady  sacrifice 
of  present  impulse  to  future  attainment.  In 
Anglo-Saxon  times  there  is  no  definite  evidence, 
which  cannot  be  otherwise  interpreted,  that  the 
mood  is  mystical  ;  but  it  is  not  extravagant  to 
suggest  that  the  stark  self-control  of  the  natural 
fighting  man  contained  a  seed  which  later,  and 
in  changed  circumstances,  might  develop  into 
the  saint's  self-abnegation.  A  conspicuous 
instance  occurs  in  the  undated  poem,  The 
Lament  of  T)eor.^  In  stanza  after  stanza  this 
poet,  who  has  lost  his  lord's  favour  and  with 
it  all  he  values  in  life,  relates  the  overwhelm- 
ing sorrow  of  this,  that,  or  the  other  man  or 
woman  ;  but,  unfailingly,  the  refrain  recurs — 

T/>at  he  (or  she)  overwent  ;  Ms  also  may  I. 

There  is  some  probability  that  Deor  is  later 

*  Preserved  in  the  Sxeter  'Bool^. 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism      3 1 

than  Widsith  or  Beovnulf,  belonging,  in  that 
case,  to  the  period  after  the  English  settlement, 
when  Latin  and  Celtic  Christianity  had  intro- 
duced new  worlds  of  thought  ;  thought  which 
might  presently  deflect  and  colour  the  natural 
temperament,  the  instinctive  turning  to  life's 
harder,  gloomier  side,  of  those  who  had  driven 
the  British  west  and  now  occupied  their  place. 
Some  lines  from  The  Seafarer^  thought  to  belong 
to  the  first  quarter  of  the  eighth  century,  and, 
like  Deor,  post-Christian,  may  further  show 
this  capacity  for  enduring,  patient  devotion  ; 
show,  too,  the  questing  spirit,  inclined  some- 
times to  travel  beyond  material  bounds  which 
our  ancestors  possessed  : — 

His  heart  is  not  upon  the  harp,  nor  on  ring-receiving, 
Nor  in  joy  of  woman,  nor  in  world's  joy  ; 
Nor  in  any  other  thing  save  only  the  waves'  rolling  ; 
But  for  ever  hath  he  longing  who  sets  out  to  sea.' 

No  one  pretends  that  these  passionate 
"  natural "  longings  for  the  sea,  for  home, 
or  for  the  great  spaces  of  hill  and  moor  are, 
in  themselves,  mystical  ;  yet  the  race  in  which 
they  are  common  phenomena  may  very  easily 
develop  mystically.  It  is  not  "  the  flight  of 
the  alone  to  the  Alone,"  but  it  is  the  flight  of 
desire,  not  only  to  the  not-attained,  but  to 
something  very  like  the  not-attainable. 

Possibly  one   may  go  a   step   further  yet, 

'  The  Seafarer,  11.  44-7. 


32  English  Mystics 

though  only  in  the  form  of  a  most  tentative 
suggestion.  Among  the  poems  which  some 
scholars  think  were  composed  in  the  eighth 
century  by  educated  pagans  who  stood  outside 
Christianity,  two — The  Husband's  Message  and 
The  Wife's  Complaint — are  charged  with  human 
passion.  Of  these,  Mr.  Stopford  Brooke  has 
written  that  they  exhibit  "not  a  trace  of  Chris- 
tianity, save  perhaps  a  certain  over-fineness  ot 
sentiment."  ^  The  subject  of  The  Wife's  Com- 
Dlaint  is  as  simple  as  it  is  common  in  different 
ages  and  places.  The  husband's  probably 
jealous  relations,  hating  his  wife,  accuse  her 
to  him  of  infidelity  or  magic.  He  imposes  the 
conventional  penalty — exile — by  confining  her, 
in  absolute  solitude,  within  a  strictly-isolated 
and  fenced  portion  of  a  wood.  From  this 
comfortless  and  perhaps  perilous  prison  her 
lament  issues.  The  followinor  extract  from 
Mr.  Stopford  Brooke's  translation  will  give 
an  idea  of  its  content  and  manner  : — 

I  found  a  man  wholly  fitted  for  me, 
Yet  of  soul  unhappy,  sorrow-struck  in  spirit. 
From   me   hiding   all  his   heart,  holding  murder  in   his 

thoughts, 
Yet  so   blithe   of  bearing.       O    full  oft   with  vows  we 

bound  us, 
That  save  Death  alone  nothing  should  divide  us, 
Nothing  in  the  world.      Now  all  changed  is  that  ! 


'   History  of  Early  English  Literature,  vol.  ii,  p.  i  70. 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism       33 

In  a  grove  within  this  wood  they  have  garred  me  dwell, 

I  am  all  one  long  desire  ! 
Dreary  is  my  dwelling  !     Here  my  lord's  departure 
Oft  has  wrought  me  wretchedly. 

Lovers  in  the  world  there  are 
Who  in  loving  live  together  .   .   . 
While  I,  in  the  early  dawning,  all  alone  am  going 
Where  I  needs  must  sit  alone,  all  the  summer-length- 
ened day. 

Coventry  Patmore,  though  his  theory  was 
hotly  combated,  insisted  that  the  difference 
between  human  passion  for  man  and  for  God 
is  one  of  degree,  not  kind.  If  he  were  right 
there  may  have  been  in  this  yearning  lament, 
which  is  neither  old  nor  modern,  but  of  every 
age,  some  element  in  the  passion  of  this 
unknown  woman  of  the  eighth  century  of 
that  consuming  devotion  to  the  Divine  Lover 
which  Mother  Julian  of  Norwich  and  Margery 
Kempe  of  Lynn  showed. 

When  S.  Patrick  converted  the  Irish  a 
considerable  part  of  their  highly-developed 
philosophy,  Ecna,  was  incorporated  into  their 
Christianity  ;  they  being  perhaps  the  only 
race  who  succeeded,  where  many  tried  and 
failed,  in  blending  Catholic  and  racial  faith. 
It  was  not  so  in  the  sister  island  of  the  saints. 
Most  characteristically,  for  generations,  the 
English  allowed  the  old  heathen  temples, 
teaching,  and  literature  to  live  side  by  side, 
peaceably,  with   the  new   Christian    Churches, 

D 


34  English  Mystics 

doctrine,  and  learning.  The  Edwardian  and 
Elizabethan  Prayer  Books  were  illustrations 
of  the  national  capacity  for  accommodation, 
for  making  room  for  irreconcilables,  but  by 
no  means  the  earliest  instances  of  it. 

Again,  among  native  tendencies,  however 
far  back  we  go,  we  find  the  English  conscious, 
sensitively  aware  of  extra-natural  power  sur- 
rounding their  life  on  this  visible  earth.  At 
first,  and  for  a  considerable  time,  this  power 
was  the  Fate-goddess,  Wyrd,  "who,  as  English- 
men thought,  was  mostly  against  them,  so  that 
their  life  was  a  heavy-weighted  battle."  ^ 

The  grim  and  passionate  conclusion — before 
a  subsequent  Christian  poet  appended  the 
Epilogue  which  now  closes  it — of  The  Wanderer 
may  be  taken  as  a  comprehensive  epitome  of 
their  customary  outlook  : — 

All  is  full  of  hardship  in  this  realm  of  earth, 

Fate's  decrees  change  for  the  worse  in  the  world  beneath 

the  skies. 
Here  our  property^  is  fleeting,  transitory  our  friend, 
Transitory  is  man,  fleeting  is  our  kinsman  : 
All  this  world's  foundation  turns  to  nothingness.3 

Disillusionment  can  scarcely  be  more  com- 
plete, nor  dreary  hopelessness  more  unrelieved. 
Yet  we  cannot  forget    that  in  an    earlier  and 

'  Stopford  Brooke,  op.  cit.,  vol.  i,  p.  281. 

2  Feoh,  which  means  cattle  or  goods  :  here  perhaps  it  is 
used  rather  for  our  grip  on  our  goods. 

3  The  Wanderer,  11.  106-1 10. 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism      35 

other  mood  the  Wanderer  bade  us  remember 
that — 

The  wise  man  shall  be  patient, 
Not  too  passionate,  nor  too  hasty  of  speech, 
Nor  too  weak  in  war,  nor  too  rash. 
Nor  too  frightened,  nor  too  glad,  nor  too  avaricious, 
Nor  never  too  eager  of  boasting,  before  he  well  knows. 
A  man  shall  wait  before  he  utter  boasting. 
Until  proud,  he  knoweth  well 
Whither  his  mind's  thought  will  turn.' 

However  contradictory  these  two  moods 
may  seem,  the  second  passage  is  instinct  with 
Eno-Hsh  caution  and  common  sense.  Nor  need 
we  marvel  at  the  last  line's  careless  fortuitous- 
ness, for  in  their  beginnings,  as  in  their 
developments,  the  English  have  always  been 
less  philosophical  than  most  other  races. 
Stumbling  from  one  set  of  facts  to  another, 
they  take  them  much  as  they  come,  whether 
corroborative  or  contradictory  ;  and  so  they 
have  elaborated  no  systematic  theory  of  life, 
but  have  dealt  with  emergencies  as  they  arose, 
heedless  of  logic  and  neat  explanations.  The 
significant  fact,  in  this  tragedy-laden  poem 
The  Wanderer^  is  that  then,  as  now,  they  never 
knew  when  they  were  beaten,  and  consequently 
never  were.  For  those  who  can  hold  on 
against  all  possible  odds,  who  can  still  play  the 

'  The  Wanderer,  11.  65-72.  The  reference  may  be  to 
the  great  yearly  feast  when  warriors  were  wont  to  vow  to 
perform  some  valorous  deed  before  twelve  months  had 
passed. 


36  English  Mystics 

game,  however  heavily  loaded  the  dice,  final 
defeat  does  not  exist.  Grave,  careworn  in 
hard  times,  exulting  in  better  ones,  our  fore- 
fathers carried  on  the  fight,  until  with  the 
dawn  of  Christianity  the  mood  changed,  and 
the  goddess  who  was  "always  against  them  " 
was  slowly  exchanged  for  the  love  of  the 
Father,  the  redeeniing  power  of  the  Son,  the 
consolation  of  the  Paraclete.  But  the  change 
was  very  gradual  ;  for  a  long  while  the  two 
currents  of  belief  ran  on  side  by  side  without 
mingling. 

Once  more,  in  all  their  poetry  and  not 
seldom  in  their  prose  we  find  the  persistent, 
recurrent  English  love  of  nature's  beauty. 
Mr.  Stopford  Brooke  laboured  to  prove  that 
the  north  is  so  cold,  bleak,  and  severe  that 
this  love  of  beauty  could  not  possibly  have  had 
birth  without  Christianity's  help  ;  though  how 
Christianity  could  change  a  man's  judgement 
of  climate  and  its  consequences  he  scarcely 
succeeds  in  showing.  Could  any  one  }  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  wrong.  The  summer 
sea  can  lap  lazily  in  the  sunshine  on  the  sandy 
shores  of  Lindisfarne  ;  incomparable  fox- 
gloves spring  in  the  clefts  of  the  black  basalt 
columns  below  Northumbria's  Roman  wall  ; 
and  over  the  wide  spaces  of  Yorkshire  June 
flings  a  gorgeous  wealth  and  variety  of  flowers 
which  hardly  the  sunniest  south  could  outdo. 
On   many  days  at  some  seasons  of   the   year 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism      37 

"  the     inhospitable    north  "    is  just    a    fancy, 
resting  on  no  foundation  of  fact  whatever. 

Yet,  with  his  curious  trick  of  contradicting 
himself,  sometimes  more  than  once  in  the 
same  chapter,  Mr.  Stopford  Brooke,  as  he 
turns  from  the  subject  of  this  supposed  debt 
to  Christianity,  observes  :  "  It  is  remarkable 
.  .  .  that  the  doings  of  nature  should  have 
been  made  by  deliberate  choice  a  separate  sub- 
ject of  song.  This  owes  its  origin,  I  think, 
partly  to  a  special  strain  in  the  nature  of  the 
northern  English,  the  cause  of  which  1  can- 
not render  definite  ;  partly,  I  believe,  to  the 
reading  of  Virgil.  It  was  no  doubt  strength- 
ened by  an  admixture  of  Celtic  blood."  '  If 
English  literature  be  studied  as  a  whole,  and 
also  in  some  detail,  it  surely  will  be  found  more 
reasonable  to  conclude  that  this  love  of  nature 
is  indigenous  in  the  English  temperament  ; 
not  more  northern  than  southern,  owing 
nothing  to  Paganism  or  Christianity,  to  Latin 
or  to  Celt,  but  racial,  of  the  soil.  The  love  of 
the  homeland,  of  the  landscape,  of  the  homely 
beauty  of  this  England  meets  us  in  our 
beginnings  and  runs  all  through  our  literature 
down  to  to-day  : — 

Trees  re-bloom  with  blossoms,  burghs  are  fair  again, 
Winsome  are  the  wide  plains  and  the  world  is  gay — 

'  History  of  Early  English  Literature,  vol.  i,  p.  298. 


38  English  Mystics 

All  doth  only  challenge  the  impassioned  heart 

Of  his  courage  to    the  voyage  whosoever  thus  bethinks 

him 
O'er  the  ocean  billows  far  away  to  go. 
Every  cuckoo  calls  a  warning  with  his  chant  of  sorrow  ! 
Sings  the  summer's  watchman.^ 

No  one  knows  for  certain  the  date  of  these 
lines  ;  but  in  some  primitive  age  the  Seafarer, 
complaining  that — 

all  the  glee  I  got  me  was  the  gannet's  scream, 

turned  from  such  miseries  to  a  recollection  of 
the  pleasant  country-side. 

Similarly,  on  the  ruined,  war-scarred  fields 
of  Flanders  an  English  soldier  bethought  him- 
self of  his  homeland  : — 

She  is  very  small  and  very  green 
And  full  of  little  lanes  all  dense  with  flowers, 
That  wind  along  and  lose  themselves  between 
Mossed  farms,  and  parks,  and  fields  of  quiet  sleep.' 

This  intense  love  of  nature  is  not  mystical  ; 
but  out  of  this  racial  love  there  will  develop 
presently  the  cosmic  emotion,  or  the  nature- 
mysticism  as  it  is  more  simply  called  of  a 
Traherne  and  a  Wordsworth. 

Since  mysticism  proper  is  this  book's  main 
business,  a  discussion  of  predisposing  elements 

'  The  Seafarer^  11.  48  et  seq.,  in  Mr,  Stopford  Brooke's 
translation. 

^  Lieutenant  Geoffrey  Howard,  Royal  Fusiliers,  Soldier 
Toets,  p.  47. 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism      39 

must  not  be  unduly  lengthened.  I  will  not 
quote,  as  I  might,  from  the  various  renderings 
of  Bible  stories,  so  popular  from  the  time  of 
Caedmon,  though  scattered  through  them  like 
flowers  in  a  spring-awakened  wood  beautiful 
natural  descriptions  may  be  found.  Two 
passages  from  The  Phcenix  are  preferable,  since 
that  poem  owes  nothing  to  a  Hebrew  original. 
I  choose  these  passages  because,  though  some 
scholars  suppose  that  Cynewulf  copied  Lac- 
tantius,  the  "  natural  "  passages  do  not  occur 
in  Lactantius,  and  so  presumably  are  the 
Englishman's  own.  The  first  tells  of  the 
miraculous  Bird's  song  : — 

The  upringing  of  his  voice 
Than  all  other  song-crafts  sweeter  is  and  lovelier  ; 
Far  away  more   winsome  than  whatever  winding  lay. 

The  other  is  the  picture  of  the  Bird's  death- 
place  : — 

There  the  wind  is  still  and  the  weather  fair  ; 
Pure  and  holy  there  shines  the  heaven's  gem  ; 
Clouds  are  cleared  away,  and    the    glorious  crowds  of 

waters 
Still  are  standing  there  ;  every  storm  therein 
Under  heaven  is  hushed. 

If  the  poem  be  Cynewulf's,  "  stark  "  North- 
umbria  had  shown  him  gracious  sights,  unless 
those  scholars  who  believe  him  to  be  a  West- 
Saxon  chance  to  be  right.  Such  emphasize  the 
fact   that   the   manuscript   of  Elene   is  written 


40  English  Mystics 

in  the  West-Saxon  dialect.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  Dream  of  the  Roody  whose  authorship  is 
ascribed  to  him,  is  Northumbrian.  Perhaps 
Cynewulf  had  another  source  of  knowledge, 
something  subtler  even  than  the  district  to 
which  he  belonged. 

Lastly,  among  qualities,  traceable  back  to 
earliest  times,  which  may  be  reckoned  as  pre- 
requisites, or,  at  least,  as  aids  to  the  develop- 
ment, later  on,  of  genuine  mysticism,  I  would 
include  the  love  of  solitude.  Often  it  is 
a  love  of  actual  physical  solitude.  More 
remarkable  still,  belonging  probably  to  the 
eighth  century,  is  a  passage  in  The  Wanderer^ 
a  poem  pagan  in  spirit,  where  the  solitude  is 
not  physical,  but  the  withdrawn  aloneness  of 
a  reticent  heart  and  soul  : — 

In  sooth  I   know 
That  in  any  earl  an  excellent  custom  is 
That  he  firmly  bind  his  heart, 
Guard  his  hoard-coffer,  think  as  he  wills. 
Nor  can  the  disheartened  man  the  Wyrd  withstand. 
Nor  the  fierce  heart  provide  any  help. 
Therefore  oft  do  glory-seekers  closely  bind  and  cover 
This  unhappiness  in  their  own  breast-coffers.' 

There  is  no  gleam  of  Christianity  in  that  ; 
Wyrd  is  still  the  Fate-goddess  who  is  "against" 
humanity.  All  the  more  significant  then,  in 
a  sense,  is  this  withdrawal  into  self ;  though 
we  must    remember    and    allow    for    the    fact 

'    The  Wanderer,  \  i  et  seq. 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism      4 1 

that  as  the  poem  goes  on,  It  becomes  evident 
that  the  Wanderer's  mood  is,  at  any  rate, 
partly  due  to  the  loss  of  friends,  of  his  chief 
in  particular.  The  Wanderer  tells  how,  in  the 
dream-world,  he  sees  in  spirit  his  "  man-lord," 
again — 

Clippeth  him  and  desireth  him. 

But  with  the  waking  hour  dream  turns  to 
delusion,  and  the  lonely  soul  fares  forth  again 
to  follow  the  flying  goal  of  love  withdrawn  : — 

Then   wakes   again   the   friendless   man, 

Seeth   there  before    him,    the   fallow  waves, 

Sea-fowls  bathing,   spreading  out  their  feathers, 

Hoar-frost   and   snow   falling  with    hail    bemingled. 

Then   the   heart's  wounds  the  heavier  are, 

With  sorrow  for  the  loved  one,  sorrow  is  renewed. 

Yet  through  this  grim,  grey  struggle  which 
our  forbears  seem  to  have  waged  with  such 
iron  resolution,  such  valorous  refusal  to  suc- 
cumb, one  poet  stands  out,  who,  so  far  as  I 
know,  has  never  been  considered  a  mystic,  and 
who,  for  all  that,  surely  was  one,  possibly  the 
first  of  his  race — Cynewulf.  Few  positive  facts 
can  be  established  about  him,  and  more  recent 
scholars  are  less  positive  than  some  of  the 
earlier  generation  of  Anglo-Saxon  students. 
Professor  Cook^  hazards  the  suggestion  that 
the   poet   was   born  about  a.d.  750  and   died 

'  Professor  of  English  Language  and  Literature  in  Yale 
University. 


42  English  Mystics 

about  A.D.  825.  Of  the  poems  ascribed  to  him, 
at  one  time  or  another,  it  is  generally  admitted 
that  The  Christy  Slene^  Juliana  are  rightly  so, 
since  his  name  is  embedded  in  the  verse  of 
each.  The  Riddles^  in  the  Exeter  Book^  have 
been  ascribed  to  him  by  some  of  the  earlier 
scholars  without  any  hesitation.  Not  a  few 
have  thought  that  the  eighty-ninth  Riddle  was 
a  description  of  himself.  Nowadays  his  author- 
ship of  them  is  frequently  denied.  Other 
poems  attributed  to  him  at  various  times  are 
GuthlaCy  The  Pha^nix,  Christ's  Descent  into  Helly 
Andreas^  The  T)ream  of  the  Rood^  and,  much 
more  doubtfully.  The  Fates  of  the  Apostles.  Of 
these,  all  but  Elene  and  the  last  three  just  men- 
tioned (all  four  of  which  are  to  be  found  in  the 
VercelU  'Booh^  in  a  handwriting  of  the  eleventh 
century)  are  contained  in  the  Exeter  Book, 
Those  who  wish  to  pursue  the  "critical" 
problem  of  authorship  in  more  detail  will 
find  some  further  help  in  the  Cambridge  History 
of  English  Literature^  vol.  i,  ch.  iv.  Mr.  Stop- 
ford  Brooke  has  rendered  the  eighty-ninth 
Riddle,  rather  freely,  as  follows  : — 

^theling  am  I  and  to  earls  am  known. 

And    not   rarely   do    I   rest  with  the  rich  and  with  the 

poor  ; 
Midst  the  Folks   I'm   famous.     Widely  fares   (through 

hall) 
And  for  me,  a  foreigner,  rather  than  for  friends — 
Loud,  the  plunderers'  applause,  if  that  I  should  have 
Glory  in  the  Burghs,  or  the  goods  that  shine. 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism      43 

Also  very  great  the  love  that  well-witted  men 

Have  of  meeting  me.      1  to  many  folk 

Wisdom  do  unveil.      Not  a  word  on  earth 

Then  is  said  by  any  man.     Though  the  sons  of  men, 

Though  the  Earth-indwellers,  eagerly  seek  after 

Footprints  that  I  leave,  frequently  I  hide 

From  all  men  that  are  my  (unfoUowed)  way.^ 

Setting  aside  the  solution  sometimes  offered 
— the  moon — for  a  more  human  one,  this 
enigma  is  not  only  interesting  because  it  deals 
with  a  nobly-born  youth,  equally  at  home  with 
rich  and  poor,  famous  and  beloved,  more 
popular  indeed  sometimes,  as  the  obscure 
fourth  and  fifth  lines  mean  to  say,  than  the 
home-born  singers  in  the  strange  places  where 
he  lodges  ;  all  these  details  are  ordinary 
enough.  But  it  startles  and  arrests  a  reader 
who  is  searching  our  literature  for  the  begin- 
nings of  religious  intuition,  when,  at  its  close, 
it  affords  a  possible  glimpse  of  a  leader  faring 
forth  as  a  hidden  guest,  the  track  of  whose 
feet  fades,  leaving  no  clue  to  his  "  way."  It 
is  but  the  barest  hint,  yet,  1  believe,  it  strikes 
a  new  note  in  our  literature.  Moreover  it 
does  not  stand  alone  ;  we  find  a  clearer  in- 
stance in  Cynewulf's  undoubted  work,  Elene. 
If  those  scholars  be  right  who  attribute  The 
'Riddles  to  him,  of  course  the  two  passages 
gather   interest    from  each  other.     If  they  be 

'  Stopford  A.  Brooke,  History  of  English  Literature,  vol.  i, 
p.  10. 


44  English  Mystics 

by  different  men,  then  probably  Cynewulf  was 
the  second  instead  of  the  first  of  our  mystics. 
The  poem  Elene  (whose  subject  is  the  Inven- 
tion of  the  True  Cross  by  the  Empress 
Helena)  is  thought  by  many  scholars  to  be 
based  on  the  Vita  Quiriaci  in  the  Acta  Sanctoruniy 
May  4th.  Quiriacus  (or  Cyriacus)  was  Bishop 
of  Jerusalem.  Most  scholars  agree  that  Cyne- 
wulf worked  from  a  Latin  translation.  ^ 

A  comparison  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  text  with 
this  Latin  one  seems  to  me  to  show  that  more 
than  once  Cynewulf  expands  his  Latin  original  in 
a  way  which  suggests  a  clear  mystical  tendency: 
while  the  passage  which  I  desire  to  claim  as 
truly  mystical  occurs  in  the  fifteenth  and  last 
section  of  Elene^  and  has  no  basis  whatever  in 
the  Latin,  and  therefore,  apparently,  must  be 
the  poet's  own  work.  Before  I  quote  this, 
I  may  draw  attention  to  three  expanded  pas- 
sages, as  I  venture  to  call  them.  The  first 
occurs  when  Constantine,  alarmed  by  the 
Huns,  on  the  eve  of  battle  fell  asleep  and  saw, 
in  a  vision,  a  messenger  drawing  his  attention 
to  the  Cross  in  the  heavens.  The  Latin  is  as 
follows  :  "  Sa  li>ero  nocte  veniens  ^ir  splendidissi- 
mus  suscitavit  eum^  et  dixit^  '  Constantine^  noli 
timere^  sed  respice  sursum  in  ccelum^  et  vide ' ;  et 

^  The  Anglo-Saxon  poem  has  been  edited,  with  the 
Latin  version  printed  at  the  bottom  of  the  pages  : — Ekne, 
edited  by  C.  W.  Kent,  Professor  of  English  in  the  Univer- 
sity of  Tennessee.      (Published  by  Ginn  &  Co.) 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism      45 

intendens  in  ccelum  Yidet  signum  Crucis  Chris ti^  ex 
lumine  claro  constitutum,  et  desuper  Htteris  scriptum 
titulum  'IN  HOC  VINCEr'  The  corre- 
sponding passage  in  Elene  is,  literally  rendered 
in  modern  English,  as  follows  : — 

Then  was,  in  sleep,  shown  to  the  Caesar  himself 

Where  he  slept  among  his  followers, 

Seen  by  the  renowned-in-victory  the  noise  of  a  dream. ^ 

It  seemed  to  him  shining^  in  appearance,  in  man's  shape, 

White  and  hue-bright.      I  know  not  which  of  the  heroes 

Shovveth  more  glorious  than,  before  or  since,  he 

Saw  'neath  the  skies.     He,  covered  with  the  sign  of  war  3 

Awaked  from  sleep.     To  him  quickly  the  messenger 

Beautiful  ambassador  of  glory  spoke. 

And  named  by  name  (the  night's  helmet  split  apart)  :  4 

"  Constantine,  the  King  of  the  angels 

The  Wielder  of  Weirds,  the  Lord  of  Hosts, 

Ordered    His   favour    to    protect    thee.     Fear    not  for 

thyself. 
Though  the  strange  people  threaten  thee  with  terror. 
With  hard  battle.      Look  thou  to  the  heavens, 
To  the  Guardian  of  Glory :  there  thou  findest  help, 
Victory's  token."     He  was  soon  ready 
Through  this  holy  hest,  opened  his  soul's  lock. 
Upwards  looked,  as  the  ambassador,  lovely  weaver 
Of  peace,  bade  him.      He  saw  bright  with  ornaments 
The  beautiful  Tree  of  Glory,  above  the  clouds'  roof 
With  gold  adorned,  glisten  with  gems. 

^  Noise  is  the  literal  meaning  :  some  translators  render 
it  vision. 

=  Beautiful  (?). 

3  On  his  helmet  was  an  image,  the  sign  of  the  bear. 

4  The  coming  of  darkness  being  pictured  as  earth  pulling 
on  a  helmet,  which  helmet  was  shattered  by  the  messenger's 
brilliance. 


46  English  Mystics 

The  brilliant  white  cross  was  with  characters  written, 

Bright  and  light  :   "  With  this  Beacon,  thou 

In  the  terrible  danger,  wilt  overcome  the  foe, 

Hinder  the  hated  crowd."     Then,  that  light  vanished. 

Upwards  journeyed,  and  the  ambassador,  simultaneously. 

Into  the  hosts  of  the  cleansed.     The  King,  prince  of 

warriors. 
Was  the  blither  and  freer  from  sorrow. 
In  life-spirit  through  that  fair  sight. 

The  passage  could  be  rendered  more 
smoothly,  indeed  Professor  Garnett  has  pro- 
vided a  far  more  graceful  translation  ;  ^  but 
perhaps  the  roughness  of  my  version  may  be 
borne  for  the  sake  of  its  preservation  of  the 
core  of  the  poem's  meaning.  No  one  can 
compare  the  Latin  with  this  expansion  without 
wondering  how  and  why  it  happened.  The 
whole  is  pitched  in  another  key,  set  in  another 
atmosphere,  illumined  with  another  radiance. 
Splendidissimus  is  a  eulogistic  word,  but  Cyne- 
wulf  has  managed  to  drown  the  vision  in 
supernal  glory,  unearthly  light.  The  image 
of  the  night's  darkness  being  cleft  by  light, 
like  a  helmet  split  in  two  by  irresistible  power, 
is  not  in  the  original  ;  nor  is  the  picture  of  the 
golden,  jewel-encrusted  cross  gleaming  against 
the  cloud-roof;  nor  is  there  any  mention  of 
Constantine's    response  when   he   opened    his 

'  Blene  (and  other  Poems),  translated  by  J.  M.  Garnett, 
M.A.,  LL.D.,  formerly  Professor  of  English  Language  and 
Literature  in  the  University  of  Virginia.  (Published  by 
Ginn  &  Co.) 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism      47 

sours-\ock.  Lastly,  the  withdrawal  of  the  light 
upwards  and  of  the  ambassador — that  "  fair 
weaver  of  peace,"  whose  proper  place  is  with 
the  "  cleansed" — is  the  English  poet's  addition. 

If  we  may  credit  Cynewulf  with  mysticism, 
if  we  may  fairly  believe  that  supernatural  light, 
purgation,  the  responsive  soul,  all  the  familiar 
environment  of  the  mystic  were  within  his  ken, 
then  these  expansions  are  explained,  as  they 
hardly  yet  have  been  by  his  modern  editors. 
Perhaps,  after  all,  some  trace  of  theology  and 
philosophy  may  not  be  wholly  out  of  place  in 
the  difficult,  fascinating  work  of  interpreting 
Early  and  Middle  English  Literature. 

Then  we  turn  the  pages  of  Slene  :  Constan- 
tine  has  won  the  once-dreaded  battle,  but  he 
has  not  forgotten  the  vision.  He  summons 
the  wisest  to  his  synod,  and  demands  if  there 
be  any,  elder  or  younger,  who  can  tell — 

whose  was  this  beacon, 
That  to  me  so  light  appeared  and,  most  luminous  of  signs, 
My  people  saved  and  gave  me  glory. 
War-speed  against  enemies,  through  that  beautiful  tree  ? 

Again,  this  is  an  obvious  addition  to  the 
Latin,  whose  terse  comment  is  :  "  Veniens  aiitem 
Rex  Qonstantinus  in  suam  civifatem,  con')>ocavit 
omnes  sacerdotes  omnium  deorum  vel  idolorum  :  et 
quaerehat  ah  eis  cuius  vel  quid  esset  hoc  signum 
Crucis,  el  non poterant  dicere  ei.''  But,  quite  apart 
from  the  matter  of  actual  addition  of  ideas  is 


48  English  Mystics 

the  fact  that  some  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  words 
used  might  easily  be  vehicles  of  mystical  mean- 
ing. For  example,  the  superlative  torhtost^ 
meaning  most  luminously  radiant,  is  used  in 
conjunction  with  two  words  which  constantly 
recur  in  language  applied  to  the  Teutonic  gods  : 
tacen^  meaning  sign  or  token,  and  /zr,  meaning 
glory.  It  is  widely  admitted  that  ttr  is  ety- 
mologically  connected  with  the  name  of  the 
Teutonic  analogue  of  the  Roman  Mars,  the 
god  Tiw.  It  has  already  been  pointed  out 
that  the  acceptance  of  Christianity  was  com- 
patible with  an  easy  tolerance  of  the  ancient 
gods  :  the  two  streams  of  thought  and  worship 
flowed,  for  a  time,  side  by  side. 

It  is  interesting  to  notice  that  Professor  Kent 
observes  that  if  tir  were  spelt  with  a  capital, 
and  a  comma  were  omitted  after  forgeaf^  the 
change  "  would  give  us  a  sentence  entirely 
heathen."  ^  The  suggestion  that  we  have  here 
a  trace  of  mysticism  demands  no  change,  the 
passage  could  remain  as  it  stands,  which  to 
some  may  further  recommend  my  hypothesis. 

A  third  passage,  of  a  different  sort,  but  still 
expanding  the  Latin  in  a  fashion  not  unnatural 
in  a  mystic,  may  lend  further  support.  It 
occurs  in  section  iv.  The  Empress  Helena, 
sent  by  Constantine  to  Jerusalem  to  search  for 
the    true    Cross,  thus,   in   the    Latin    version, 

'   op.  cit.,  p.   172. 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism      49 

addresses  the  Jews  :  "  eiim  qui  mortuos  vestros 
yiivificabat  in  mortem  tradidistis^  et  lucem  tenehras 
existimastis,  et  loeritatem  mendacium^  per))enit  in  '\ios 
maledictum  quod  est  in  lege  ')>estra  scrip  turn  T  ^ 
Cynewulf's  rendering,  put  as  before  into  literal 
modern  English,  runs  thus  : — 

Ye  soon  to  death 
Began  to  condemn  the  One,  Who,  Himself,  from  death 
Awakened  a  multitude,  from  the  crowd  of  men, 
Of  your  own  kin,  to  that  former  life. 
So  ye,  mind-blinded,  began  to  mingle 
Lying  with  truth,  light  with  darkness. 
Hate  with  favour,  and  with  wicked  thoughts 
Wove  crime.     Therefore  the  curse 
Scatters  you,  the  laden  with   guilt.      The  clear-bright 

Might 
You  began  to  condemn  ;  and  in  error  ye  lived 
In  darkened  thoughts  unto  this  day. 

From  the  mystical  point  of  view  the  most 
striking  passage  of  all  occurs  in  the  last  section, 
the  fifteenth,  which  is  entirely  the  English 
poet's  work,  an  addition  unsuggested  by  any- 
thing whatever  in  the  Latin  version,  which  has 
no  fifteenth  section,  but  breaks  off  at  the  close 
of  the  fourteenth. 

Too  often  have  the  editors  and  critics  of 
Early  English  Texts  dismissed  "additions" 
(particularly  by  a  Christian  poet  to  a  heathen 
poem)  as  of  no  interest  or  merit.  Sometimes 
the  condemnation  is  deserved.  But  a  person 
to  whom  religion  means  little  or  nothing  might 

^  Elene,  edited  by  Professor  Kent,  p.  30. 


so  English  Mystics 

still  remember  how  universal,  through  the 
races  of  men,  the  religious  instinct  has  been 
found  to  be  ;  might  try  to  realize  that  the 
development  through  the  ages  of  any  human 
tendency  has  its  abiding  interest  for  the  philo- 
sopher. Those  who  "  emancipate  "  themselves, 
as  they  call  it,  are  apt  to  fall  sometimes  into 
oddly  unexpected,  narrow  little  traps.  In  this 
case,  however,  Professor  Cook  attaches  par- 
ticular importance  to  this  "  Epilogue,"  as 
throwing  light  on  the  person  and  circum- 
stances of  Cynewulf.  So  much  is  this  so  that 
he  gives  an  exceedingly  considered  translation 
of  it  word  by  word.^  But  when,  on  the  follow- 
ing page,  he  sets  about  explaining  the  passage, 
no  glimmer  of  a  thought  occurs  to  him  that  its 
author  might  be  found  among  the  mystics. 
One  instance  of  his  exegesis  may  suffice.  The 
lines  1 246-1 249,  extraordinarily  suggestive,  but 
hard  to  translate,  when  rendered  as  literally  as 
possible,  run  thus  : — 

Before  Lore,  through  the  form  of  light,  (He)  lent  to  me, 
An  old  man,  by  way  of  help,  a  glorious  ^  gift. 
The  Mighty  King  meted  out  and  poured  into  my  mind  ; 
Clearness  3  opened,  making  the  days  more  roomy. 4 

'  A.    S.   Cook,   The   Christ  of  Cynezvulf.      Introduction, 
p.  Ixvi.      (Published  by  Ginn  &  Co.) 

2  Or  blameless. 

3  The  noun  torht  again  :   it  might  be  translated   bright 
shining. 

4  Professor  Kent  suggests  "extended  or  widened  with 
time "  ;  surely  a  most  obscure  phrase  here. 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism       5 1 

The  word  Idre  (our  modern  lore),  meaning 
learning  or  instruction,  Professor  Cook  boldly 
translates  by  inspiration,  while  in  subsequent 
explanations  he  seems  to  think  that  it  might 
cover  special  grace,  or  even  prophecy.  But 
the  words  purh  leohtne  had  are  the  crux  of  the 
passage  ;  these  I  have  translated  "  through  the 
form  of  light,"  though,  grammatically,  they 
should  be  "  through  light  form."  I  take  this 
as  capable  of  meaning  the  mystic's  "  light,"  the 
"  spark,"  Pascal's  Feu^  Feu^  Feu.  Professor 
Garnett,  in  his  English  translation  of  Elene^ 
renders  it  "  through  light-bringing  office." 
Mr.  Stopford  Brooke  suggests  "in  His  lumin- 
ous way."  Professor  Cook's  translation  of  the 
whole  passage  is,  "  before  he  bestowed  inspira- 
tion through  the  bright  order  (i.e.  the  clerical 
office,  or  those  in  Holy  Orders)  as  a  help  to 
the  aged  man."  And  his  interpretation  of  it 
is  :  "  Then  God's  ministers  instructed  me  {or 
perhaps  I  took  orders)  when  I  was  no  longer 
young,  and  God  Himself  has  inspired  me  by 
the  gift  of  His  grace."  ^ 

Probably  now,  so  late  in  time,  no  decision 
can  be  arrived  at  ;  but  when  the  whole  passage 
is  considered — it  is  quoted  a  little  further  on — 
some  may  prefer  Feu  to  Holy  Orders.  Into 
this  passage  no  question  of  Christian  against 
pagan  enters  ;  it  is  the  diffisrence  between  one 

'   op.  cit.,  p.  Ixvii. 


52  English  Mystics 

man  and  another  which  strikes  us.  The  loan 
from  Quiriacus  having  come  to  an  end,  Cyne- 
wulf  chooses  to  give  his  readers  just  a  glimpse 
of  himself  as  he  really  was,  that  is  as  he  seemed 
to  himself.  Part  of  this  description  would  be 
comprehensible  if  Cynewulf  were  the  author 
of  The  Riddles y  and  in  the  eighty-ninth  was 
writing  autobiographically.  In  this  postcript 
to  Elene  he  describes  his  vanished  youth  :  from 
line  125  onwards,  he  speaks  of  having  been, 
when  young,  oppressed  with  care,  he  calls 
himself  (partly  to  include  a  syllable  of  his 
own  name)  a  "  flickering  pine-torch  "  ;  ^  he 
admits  having  received  "  appled  gold,"  which 
sounds  such  a  pleasant  gift  ;  "  treasures  "  he 
calls  these,  in  the  mead-hall,  thus  recalling 
that  T^theling  of  the  Riddle  who,  foreigner 
though  he  was,  was  more  popular  than  the 
natives,  or,  at  any  rate,  won  more  applause. 
Further,  he  seems  to  have  been  a  happy  rider 
on  a  gaily  caparisoned  charger,  the  character- 
istically English  love  of  animals  appearing 
early  in  our  literature.  But  the  mystical  pas- 
sage relates  to  his  old  age  ;  the  lines  open 
section  xv,  four  lines  of  which  I  have  already 
quoted  : — 

Thus  I,  old,  and  on  account  of  that  frail  house  ^ 

Ready  to  die,  word-craft  wove  and  wonderfully  gathered, 

'   Cen  is  the  rune,  and  also  means  resin. 
^  His  worn-out  body. 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism       53 

At  times  reflected  upon  and  sifted  the  thought 

Closely,  of  a  night.'      I  knew  not  accurately 

The  rights   of  the    Rood    until   wisdom,   with  roomier 

thought 
Through  the  glorious  knowledge  of  the  soul's  reflection 
Disclosed  it  to  me.      I  was  stained  with  works. 
With  sins  ensnared,  with  sorrows  tortured, 
By  bitter  things  bound,  by  troubles  oppressed. 
Before  Lore,  through  the  form  of  Light,  (He)  lent  to  me, 
An  old  man,  by  way  of  help,  a  glorious  -  gift, 
The  Mighty  King  meted    out    and  poured    into  (my) 

mind, 
Opening  clearness,  making  the  days  more  roomy  ; 
Bone-house  unbound,  breast-lock  opened, 
Song-craft  unlocked,  which  I  joyfully  broke  forth  in 
With  will,  about  the  world.     Of  that  tree  of  glory 
Not  once  but  often  I  had  in  memory 
Before  I  had  that  wonder  revealed. 
About  that  bright  tree,  as  in  books  I  found, 
As  fate  fell  out,  in  writings  made  known 
That  beacon  of  victory. 

Taking  the  whole  passage  together,  and 
assuming  the  legitimacy  of  translating  the 
difficult  phrase  in  the  sense  which  I  have 
suggested  as  mystical  light,  the  main  points 
are  that  Cynewulf  was  oppressed  with  sin  and 
sorrow,  and  apparently  during  this  period 
had  lost  his  old  gift  of  song  ;  that  in  this 
spiritual  darkness  he  meditated  often  on  the 
mystery  of  the  Rood,  till  finally  the  Mighty 
King,    through    the    form  of  Light,  revealed 

'  Or  perhaps  "  in  the  oppression  at  night." 
^  Or  blameless. 


54  English  Mystics 

truth  to  him,  which  he  "  saw  "  with  the  true 
mystic's  way  of  vision,  not  learning  it  now 
from  books,  though  previously  he  had  learned 
something  so  ;  and  that  as  a  consequence  his 
gift  of  song  wonderfully  returned,  and  he  sang 
the  truth  of  the  Cross  about  the  world.  Note- 
worthy is  the  distinct  difference  he  makes 
between  book-knowledge  and  "  immediate  " 
conviction. 

How  is  this  mood  distinguishable  from 
mystical  illumination  which  follows  on  con- 
sciousness of  sin,  purgation,  and  meditation  .'' 
No  doubt  these  lines  should  be  considered  in 
the  light  of  the  three  previous  passages  which 
I  have  quoted  and  discussed  ;  for  they  suggest 
that  whatever  else  Cynewulf  was  or  was  not, 
he  had  certain  predispositions  and  that  "  spark 
in  the  soul "  which  one  day  will  set  all  life 
ablaze  and  flare  up  to  God. 

If  it  ever  should  be  proved  that  Cynewulf 
wrote  the  eighty-ninth  Riddle,  then  the  whole 
matter  becomes  still  more  convincingly  plain. 
We  there  have  a  picture  of  a  noble  youth, 
attached  to  some  court,  living  his  joyful  suc- 
cessful life,  but  not  wholly  satisfied  therewith. 
A  romantic  setting  forth  on  a  great  quest  is 
a  natural  result  ;  we  note  the  half-wistful,  and 
perhaps  half-boyishly  mischievous,  concealment 
alike  of  the  end  and  way.  Beyond  doubt 
there  is  the  conviction  of  a  goal  to  be  attained 
only  by  sustained  effort.     Thus  far  the  Riddle 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism       ^^ 

would  carry  us.  Then  the  Epilogue  to  Elene 
would  tell  of  the  chilling  change  wrought  by- 
experience  and  sin,  and,  as  in  a  much  later  poet, 
Henry  Vaughan,  with  this  sense  of  sin  comes 
that  of  estrangement.  Finally,  after  sorrow, 
bitterness,  and  prolonged  meditation,  the 
"light"  breaks  in;  conviction  is  immediate, 
intuitive  ;  at  last  he  possesses  direct  know- 
ledge given  by  the  Mighty  King,  knowledge 
never  to  be  attained  by  any  mere  effort  or 
exercise  of  human  will  ;  a  gift,  recognized  by 
the  recipient  as  spontaneous,  supernatural.  If 
these  two  be  by  the  same  hand,  they  are  a 
precious  proof  from  that  far-off,  storm-tossed 
eighth  century  of  the  possibility  of  English 
Mysticism  ;  a  first  light  in  the  morning  sky, 
as  the  dawn  begins  to  fret  night's  gloom. 

Perhaps  many  people  of  to-day  (legatees 
whether  or  no  they  care  to  remember  and 
recognize  it  of  so  long  and  varied  a  line  of 
saints  and  doctors),  scarcely  realize  not  only 
the  limitations  but  the  appalling  violence  and 
disorder  of  the  seventh  and  eighth  centuries 
in  Western  Europe.  If  Rome  herself  had 
partially  recovered  from  the  Barbarian  irrup- 
tions. North- Western  Europe,  or  vast  tracts 
of  it,  was  still  in  chaos.  It  is  true  that  in 
the  seventh  century  Ireland,  withdrawn  and 
to  a  great  extent  isolated  by  the  turbulent  sea, 
was  a  little  island  home  of  so  rare  and  beauti- 
ful a  learning  that  it  was  customary,  outside 


56  English  Mystics 

her  shores,  to  conclude  that  any  man  knowing 
Greek  was  Irish-born  or  Irish-bred  or  both. 

But  in  England,  at  any  rate,  scholars  were 
few  ;  Bede,  in  far  Northumbria  on  the  banks 
of  the  Tyne,  trimmed  learning's  lamp.  We 
are  deaUng  with  England  before  Alfred,  and 
still  more  with  Europe,  before  the  general 
mind  recovered  from  the  disaster  of  war  under 
the  gradual  re-illumination  effected  by  the 
great  mediaeval  saints  and  doctors,  Odo  and 
Bernard  of  Chartres,  Bernard  of  Cluny,  Thomas 
Aquinas,  Anselm  of  Bee,  and  the  rest.  In  the 
eighth  century  Europe  was  only  beginning 
to  settle  down.  Things  were  less  hopeless 
than  in  those  days  of  the  fifth  century  when 
the  Burgundian  barbarians  were  terrorizing 
Auvergne,  and  the  poet-bishop  Sidonius 
Apollinaris,  being  reproached  for  his  aban- 
donment of  poetry,  answered,  "  How  can 
I  write  six-foot  verses  when  surrounded  by 
seven-foot  barbarians.''"  But  the  general 
conditions  were  still  singularly  unsuited  not 
only  to  the  growth  of  literature,  but  also  to 
the  calm  peace  which  the  mystic  seeks. 

Then  again,  monasticism,  that  great  shelter 
of  scholars  and  scholarship,  by  whose  aid  so 
largely  Europe  recovered  from  a  vast  and 
foundation-shaking  catastrophe,  was  still  young 
so  far  as  the  North  and  West  were  concerned: 
Monte  Cassino  was  founded  when  the  sixth 
century  was  well  on  its  way,  in  a.d.  529.     The 


The  Beginnings  of  English  Mysticism       57 

part  played  in  European  reconstruction  by  the 
Church,  and  by  it  in  the  years  when  monasti- 
cism  was  strongest  has  been  thus  described  : 
"  When  the  Empire  broke  up  the  Church  held 
together.  It  was — again  to  use  an  ecclesias- 
tical simile — a  kind  of  ark  in  which  civilization 
was  carried  across  the  disorder  of  the  first  five 
centuries  after  the  barbarian  invasions.  The 
unity  of  Western  Christendom  was  the  source  of 
such  unity  as  was  maintained  in  West  European 
society  in  this  chaotic  period.  The  Church, 
strong  in  its  cohesive  organization,  conscious 
of  its  complete  intellectual  superiority  to  the 
barbarian  invaders,  possessing  in  its  teaching 
and  ceremonial  the  one  mode  of  intellectual 
influence  capable  of  powerfully  impressing  their 
rude  minds,  and  gaining  fresh  vigour  from  its 
successful  struggle  with  disorder — made  itself 
a  place  of  the  first  importance  in  the  barbarian 
kingdoms  formed  out  of  the  break-up  of  the 
Roman  Empire  and  out  of  the  Teutonic 
nations  outside,  over  which  its  sway  was  grad- 
ually extended.  The  fact  is  manifest  in  English 
history,  no  less  than  in  that  of  France  or  Ger- 
many, and  also  in  Spain  between  the  Gothic 
and  the  Moorish  conquests."  ^ 

Readers  of  R.  W.  Church's  The  Beginning 
of  the  Middle  Ages  will  recall  his  description  of 
the  mutilation  and  dismemberment  of  Europe 

'  Henry  Sidgwick,  The  Development  of  European  Tolity, 
p.  223- 


58  English  Mystics 

after  the  fall  of  the  Roman  Imperial  power, 
when,  in  his  words,  all  seemed  "  hopelessly 
wrecked  without  prospect  of  hope  or  escape" ; 
they  will  remember  his  not  less  striking  account 
of  the  stupendous  effort  which  effectual  recon- 
struction demanded.  No  doubt  England  lay 
somewhat  apart  then  from  the  main  current 
of  West  European  life  ;  and  it  must  not  be 
forgotten  that  in  the  latter  half  of  the  eighth 
century,  just  the  part  covered  by  Cynewulf's 
life,  the  school  of  i^thelbert  and  Alcuin  at 
York  won  European  fame,  and  this  despite 
the  fact  that  Alcuin,  summoned  to  conduct  the 
Palace  School  wherever  Charlemagne  pitched 
his  court,  had  considerable  difficulty — to  that 
monarch's  lively  entertainment — in  sustaining 
his  reputation  against  the  modernists  of  his 
day,  whom  Charles  invited  and  entertained 
with  equal  gusto. 

But  from  whatever  standpoint  we  view  the 
eighth  century,  Cynewulf  the  soldier-poet,  the 
friend  of  all  and  sundry,  now  the  joyous  poet, 
then  the  guilt-burdened  penitent,  is  a  figure  so 
unique  and  remarkable  that  the  almost  total 
oblivion  into  which  his  name  and  work  have 
fallen  is  a  significant  sign  of  our  massive 
national  carelessness  about  *'  the  things  which 
are  more  excellent." 


CHAPTER  11 

English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages 

A  LL  that  I  have  written   so  far  is   intro- 
Zjk      ductory  to    genuine,    fully-developed 
X    ^    English   Mysticism. 

When  we  come  to  the  mystics  proper,  to 
"  ]es  ames  qui,  se  d6gageant  parfaitement  des 
creatures,  n'ont  plus  d'autres  occupations  que 
de  s'unir  intimement  a  Dieu,"  as  Pere  Cham- 
pion de  la  Mah^re  called  them  in  his  dedication 
to  the  Blessed  Virgin  of  his  Life  of  Pere  Jean 
Rigoleuc,^  to  that  company  of  men  and  women 
whose  work,  so  far  as  England  is  concerned, 
began  probably  with  Margery  Kempe,  the 
Ancress  of  Lynn,  towards  the  close  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  we  are  dealing  with  a  people 
which  differs  somewhat  from  the  English  race 
which  settled  down  here  between  the  fifth  and 
eighth  centuries.  In  the  interval  many  strains 
had  filtered  in,  and  by  the  thirteenth  century 
we  are  confronted  with  that  composite,  complex, 
contradictory  agglomeration  which  retained  the 
old    name,  and   which   with    further  and    still 

'  Quoted  in  le  Rev.    Pere    Henri    Bremond's    Histoire 
Li  tier  aire  du  Sentiment  Religieux  en  France,  vol.  v,  p.  5 . 

59 


6o  English  Mystics 

more  remotely  derived  racial  additions  we  still, 
to-day,  call  English.  Rightly  too,  it  would 
seem,  because  it  is  the  peculiar  gift  of  the 
dwellers  in  this  country,  south  of  the  Tweed, 
to  proceed  not  by  change  on  and  through  an 
alien  influx  ;  but  by  absorption  of  some  alien 
qualities,  and  by  a  quiet  indifference  to  and 
ignoring  of  the  rest,  an  indifference  which 
appears  to  end  in  their  extinction.  Perhaps 
the  faults  as  well  as  the  virtues  of  the  English 
spring  from  this  strange  capacity  for  rejection 
and  selection,  a  capacity  which  some  other 
nations  find  curiously  exasperating. 

In  between  the  Anglo-Saxon  literature, 
already,  if  inadequately,  considered,  and  the 
work  which  begins  with  Margery  Kempe, 
there  is  a  transition  literature,  in  which  indi- 
cations and  traces  of  the  mystical  temper  and 
attitude  can  be  found,  the  best  example  ot 
which  is  perhaps  the  quaint  little  treatise,  Hali 
Meidenhad. 

There  is  one  reason,  to  which  possibly 
adequate  weight  and  consideration  have  not 
always  been  given,  why  the  thirteenth  and 
fourteenth  centuries  are  the  golden  age  of 
orthodox  English  Mysticism,  a  reason  not  con- 
nected with  the  general  outburst  of  Mysticism 
in  Northern  Europe  :  viz.  that  the  men  and 
women  of  that  time,  born  before  the  disastrous 
rent  of  the  sixteenth  century,  lived  and  wor- 
shipped and  died  untroubled  by  those  doubts 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       6 1 

and   controversies   which    have   gathered   and 
grown  since. 

The  damage  and  sin  of  divisions  are  not 
overwhelmingly  convincing  to  the  ordinary 
run  of  people  to-day  ;  and  those  who  have 
come  to  believe  that  fierce  competition  in  the 
industrial  world  may  quite  well  be  ruinous, 
are  sometimes  none  the  less  found  announcing 
that  "  competition  among  religious  sects  is 
healthy,"  keeping  them  alive  and  energetic. 
What  sort  of  life  it  fosters  they  seldom  stay  to 
inquire.  Disastrous  in  every  region  of  reli- 
gious life,  the  strife  consequent  on  divisions 
is  just  destructive  of  the  mystical  attitude  and 
of  mystical  practice.  But  in  those  two  great 
centuries,  whatever  difficulties  and  even  dis- 
orders occurred,  the  bitterness  of  strife  on 
religious  fundamentals  was  not  present  :  and 
this  settled  faith  is  reflected  in  the  mystical 
literature  of  the  time,  and  it  exhibits  a  com- 
pleteness and  security  of  thought  and  feeling 
which  have  been  wanting  since.  The  twentieth- 
century  student  need  not  hunt  the  fourteenth 
century  with  a  literary  microscope  for  faint 
hints  of  a  mystical  point  of  view,  as  he  must 
in  the  days  and  works  of  Alfred  ;  or  wonder 
as  he  may  whether,  if  the  written  works  of 
S.  Dunstan,  England's  "first  Education  Minis- 
ter," had  not  perished,  there  would  be  revealed 
some  mystic  touches.  In  that  great  age  they 
are  preserved  for  us,  full  of  mystical  teaching. 


62  English  Mystics 

whether  for  the  student  or  the  devotee  or  both. 
So  much  is  there  that  one  is  tempted  to  believe 
that  such  an  outpouring  occurred,  while  the 
country's  religious  unity  gave  it  a  favourable  en- 
vironment, in  order  that  evidence  might  at  least 
remain,  however  it  were  neglected,  to  prove  the 
heights  and  depths  and  amplitudes  of  experi- 
ence of  which  Englishmen  could  be  capable. 

If  it  really  be,  which  seems  impossible,  the 
work  of  Bishop  Richard  Poore,  The  <iAncren 
Riwle  is  the  earliest  in  time,  for  he  died  in 
1237.  Next  comes  the  widely-forgotten  but 
beautiful  Luve  Ron  of  Thomas  de  Hales,  "one 
of  the  Gloucester  men,"  whose  work  is  assigned 
to  1230  or  thereabouts  ;  a  poem  which  sets 
love  to  God  over  against  and  far  beyond  any 
human  passion,  and  esteems  the  knowledge 
of  Him  as  far  above  all  other  possible  wealth. 
The  Latin  inscription  says,  "  Here  begins 
a  song  which  Brother  Thomas  of  Hales,  ot 
the  Order  of  Friars  Minor,  composed  at  the 
instance  of  a  maiden  dedicated  to  God."  Out 
of  its  two  hundred  and  ten  lines  the  following, 
which  1  have  rendered  into  modern  English, 
may  give  some  idea  of  its  tenour  : — 

Stanza   i . 

A  maid  of  Christ  earnestly  bade  me 
That  I  should  make  her  a  love  song. 

I  will  not  anywise  refuse  her 
I   will  teach  her  as  I  can. 


English  Mystics  oj  the  Middle  Ages       63 

2.  Maiden  here  thou  mightest  behold, 
This  world's  love  is  not  a  race. 
And  is  so  variously  beset 
Lying  and  worthless,  weak  and  false, 
Those  servants,  who  here  were  bold. 
Have  glided  away  like  the  wind's  breath. 
Under  mould  they  lie  cold 
And  fade  away  as  doth  meadow-grass. 

4.   None  is  so  rich  and  none  so  free 
But  he  shall  soon  go  hence  away, 
Nor  ever  may  his  warrant  be 
Gold  nor  silver,  vair  nor  grey. 

Such  is  this  world  as  thou  mayst  see 
As  the  shadows  that  glide  away. 

9.  Where  are  Paris  and  Helen 

Who  were  so  bright  and  fair  of  face, 

Amadis,  Tristram,  and  Dido, 

Iseult,  and  all  of  those  ? 

Hector  with  his  sharp  household. 

And  Caesar,  rich  with  this  world's  wealth. 

They  have  passed  out  of  the  world 

As  an  arrow  from  the  bowstring. 

11.  Maiden,  if  thou  wiliest  a  lover, 

I  will  show  thee  the  one  true  King. 

12.  A  sweet  one  if  thou  knowest. 
The  good  virtues  of  this  Child. 
He  is  fair  and  bright  of  hue, 
Of  glad  cheer,  of  manner  mild. 
Of  lovesome  pleasure,  true  of  trust. 
Free  of  heart,  of  powerful  wisdom. 


64  English  Mystics 

13.   Maiden,  to  thee  He  sends  Hi3  message 
And  willeth  to  be  known  to  thee. 


15.  What  tellest  thou  of  any  house 
That  builded  the  wise  Solomon  ? 
Of  jasper,  sapphire,  and  pure  gold 
And  of  many  another  stone  ? 
It  is  fairer  in  many  a  way 
More  than   I  can   tell  you. 
This  mansion   is  promised  to  thee, 
If  thou  beest  His  love. 

18.  No  man  can  behold  Him 
As  He  is  in  all  His  might, 
And  be  without  bliss 
When  he  seeth  our  Lord. 
The  sight  of  Him   is  all  joy  and  glee, 
He  is  day  which   knows  no  night. 
There  is  no  maid  so  wholly  blessed 
As  she  who  dwells  with  such  a  Knight. 

26.   When   thou  sittest  in  longing 

Draw  thou  forth  this  same  script. 

With  sweet  voice  sing  thou  it. 

And  do  as  it  thee  bids. 

To  thee  He  hath  sent  one  greeting 

God  Almighty  be  with  thee, 

And  permit  thee  to  come  to  be  His  Bride 

High  in   heaven  where  He  sits. 

Next  in  time  to  this  poem,  but  far  more 
definitely  mystical,  is  the  fragment  which 
remains  of  the  work  of  Margery  Kempe,  of 
Lynn  ;  that  is,  it  is  the  next  if  she  be  identical 
with    that    Margery  who    between    1284    and 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       6^ 

1298  gave  certain  land  at  Canterbury  to  the 
Prior  of  Christ  Church  there. 

The  greatest  and  most  important  individual 
contribution  to  the  century's  mysticism  is  the 
work  of  Richard  Rolle,  who  died  in  1349  ; 
both  in  matter  and  bulk  it  stands  alone.  Next 
comes  Mother  Julian  of  Norwich,  a  mystic 
whose  writings  have  no  precise  parallel,  so 
uniquely  personal  are  they.  She  reached  the 
age  of  100,  and  was,  according  to  her  own 
account,  still  writing  in  the  year  1373  ;  and 
besides  these  there  is  Walter  Hilton,  who 
died  in  1396. 

Scattered  about  in  manuscripts  there  remain 
some  anonymous  treatises  :  The  Cloud  of  Un- 
^nowing,  the  longest  and  possibly  the  most 
original  of  them  all  ;  The  Epistle  of  Prayer  ; 
A  very  necessary  Epistle  of  Discretion  in  Stirrings 
of  the  Soul;  The  Treatise  of  Discerning  of  Spirits  ; 
The  Epistle  of  Pri)>y  Counsel^  together  with  two 
translations  from  Latin  into  Middle  English, 
viz.  Dionise  Hid  Diyinite  (which  is  a  para- 
phrase from  the  author  known  as  Dionysius  the 
Areopagite)  and  'Benjamin  Minor^  originally 
the  work  of  the  twelfth-century  mystic, 
Richard  of  S.  Victor,  who,  though  of  Irish 
or  Scots  descent,  was  a  pupil  of  the  great 
scholastic  prior  of  the  Abbey  of  S.  Victor, 
Hugo. 

All  these  seven  (if  we  reckon  the  last  two 
in  their  Middle  English  dress)  belong  to  the 

F 


66  English  Mystics 

fourteenth  century.  Mr.  Edmund  Gardner 
has  published  modern  English  renderings 
of  most  of  them  in  a  little  book  called  T/ie 
Qell  of  S e If- K^ovp ledge.  These  various  works, 
chiefly  prose,  though  Rolle  occasionally  wrote 
verse,  make  up  the  great  body  of  mystical 
writings,  which  must  draw  some  to  the  four- 
teenth century,  so  long  as  any  care  and  love 
for  our  literature  remains.  Outside  these  are 
fugitive  poems  and  scraps  of  prose  which 
exhibit  traces  of  mysticism.  There  are,  e.g., 
the  interesting  remains  of  the  poems  of  Godric, 
a  north-country  shipmaster,  who  in  his  earlier 
years  was  kept  by  his  ordinary  business  sailing 
about  the  North  Sea,  though  twice  he  went 
as  far  as  Jerusalem,  once  carrying  its  king, 
Baldwin,  to  Jaffa  ;  and  the  other  time  visiting 
Rome  on  his  way  through  the  Mediterranean. 
His  early  career  was  variegated,  and  had  some- 
thing of  the  buccaneer's  spirit  about  it.  Then, 
in  his  middle  age,  he  changed  his  bearings,  and 
becoming  eventually  a  hermit,  he  lived  thus 
till  he  died  full  of  years  in  1170.  In  these 
later  days,  in  his  hermitage  in  Co.  Durham,  he 
had  visions.  He  himself  declared  that  our 
Lady  in  vision  taught  him  this  hymn  : — 

Saint  Mary,  O  Virgin 
Mother  of  Jesus  Christ  the  Nazarene 
Receive,  protect  thy  Godric, 

Receive,    bring    him    gloriously    with     thee     to     God's 
kingdom. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       67 

Saint  Mary,  Bower  of  Christ  ? 
Maidenhood's  purity,  flower  of  Mothers, 
Blot  out  my  sin,  reign  in  my  mind, 
Bring  me  to  bliss  with  very  God. 

Further,  it  is  related  that  after  his  sister's 
death  Godric,  being  troubled  about  her  state, 
was  relieved  by  a  vision  of  her  spirit  in  the 
care  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  and  of  two  men  in 
white  robes,  when  he  heard  her  chant  from 
the  altar-stone  a  couplet  declaring  that  Christ 
and  our  Lady  had  placed  her  there  for  safety. 

Besides  these,  three  prayers  remain  which 
all  contain  a  strand  of  mysticism,  viz.  Lofsong 
of  ure  Lefdi^  Wohunge  of  ure  Louerde^  and  the 
Lofsong  of  ure  L.ouerde.^ 

Of  the  earlier,  partly  mystical  works,  Hali 
Meidenhad  is  a  good  example.  Of  uncertain 
authorship,  it  is  addressed  to  some  anchor- 
esses, the  Ladies  of  Tarrent,  in  Dorsetshire,  for 
whom,  as  it  is  generally  thought,  The  <iAncren 
Rivfle  was  also  composed.  No  doubt  it  exalts 
the  celibate  life  in  a  fashion  whole-hearted 
enough  to  startle  unprepared  modern  ears  ; 
but  if  Professor  Atkins  be  justified  in  com- 
plaining that  the  author  "  derides  rather 
gracelessly  the  troubles  of  the  married  state,"  2 
he    tends    towards    undue   severity    when     he 

^  All  three  will  be  found  in  No.  29  (Original  Series)  of 
the  E.E.T.  Society's  publications. 

2  Cambridge  History  of  English  Literature,  vol.  i,  p.  229. 


68  English  Mystics 

declares  that  "  the  methods  of  the  writer  are 
entirely  wanting  in  that  gentle  grace  and 
persuasion  which  are  found  elsewhere.  He 
sets  forth  his  arguments  in  a  coarse  and 
repellent  manner." 

Surely  not  all  of  them  ^  Moreover,  ex- 
pressions which  repel  academic  ears  in  the 
critical  twentieth  century  may  have  sounded 
differently  to  the  Ladies  of  Tarrent  in  or 
about    I 200. 

Though  Hali  {Meidenhad  is  not  ostensibly 
mystical,  passages  in  it  are  in  the  true  vein  of 
English  Mysticism  ;  e.g.  one  on  the  subject  of 
the  essential  first  step,  purgation.  The  insist- 
ence on  genuine  inner  purification,  mortifica- 
tion, and  restraint  is  identical  with  the  counsel 
which  permeates  all  mystical  literature  of  the 
English  fourteenth  century,  and  which  informs 
all  orthodox  mysticism,  but  which  is  increas- 
ingly absent  as  the  sense  of  personal  sin  wanes 
with  the  inrush  of  modern  self-assertion.  No 
one  can  really  appreciate  the  nature  of  mysti- 
cism who  does  not  understand  the  meaning  of 
purgation  ;  and  as  the  French,  with  their 
genius  for  driving  ideas  to  their  logical  con- 
clusion, are  singularly  lucid  in  describing  what 
self-renouncing  purgation  can  mean,  it  may  be 
advisable  to  describe  it  in  the  words  of  two 
French  Jesuits  of  the  seventeenth  century  : 
"  II  ne  faut  done  que  renoncer  une  bonne 
fois  a  tous  nos  inter^ts  et  a  toutes   nos  satis- 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       69 

factions,  a  tous  nos  desseins  et  a  toutes  nos 
volont^s,  pour  ne  d^pendre  plus  desormais 
que  du  bon  plaisir  de  Dieu."  ^  The  same 
point  of  view  is  presented  by  Pere  Surin  : 
"  Ce  premier  pas  .  .  .  c'est  une  volont6  d6- 
terminee  de  laisser  tous  les  emp^chements 
b.  la  saintet6,  et  de  renoncer  aux  propres  satis- 
factions, pour  demeurer  en  la  presence  de 
Dieu  et  operer  en  sa  lumiere  le  bien  qui  sera 
connu,  sans  lui  rien  refuser.  Or  peu  de  per- 
sonnes  se  mettent  dans  cet  ordre  et  chemin, 
voila  pourquoi  elles  ne  sont  pas  pour  parvenir 
k  ce  bienheureux  6tat  ;  et  quoiqu'elles  fassent 
beaucoup  de  bonnes  choses,  elles  demeurent 
pourtant  en  arriere  et  ne  peuvent  etre  dites 
v6ritablement  parfaites."  2 

Commenting  on  these  passages,  Pere  Bre- 
mond  writes  :  "  II  n'est  pas  question  de  changer 
d'ordre,  de  monter  plus  haut.  Mais  simple- 
ment.  Ton  est  presse  de  '  renoncer  une  bonne 
fois,'  a  tous  les  inter^ts,  a  toutes  les  volontes 
propres,  de  '  faire  le  sacrifice  entier  '  ;  de  se 
^mettre  dans  une  parfaite  nudite  d'esprit.'3 
De  cette  perte  de  soi-m6me  on  ne  voit  pour 
I'instant  que  I'horreur  presque  infinie  :  on 
hesite  devant  le  vide  affreux  qui  va  se  faire, 
et   Ton    n'imagine  pas    la  plenitude   qui    doit 

^  Rev.  P^re  Louis  Lallemant,  La  T)octrine  Sprituelk, 
p.  66. 

^  Rev.  Pere  Surin,  Catechisme  spirituel,  p.  258. 

3  nudus  nudum  Jesum  sequi,  de  Imit.  Christi  iii.  37. 


yo  English  Mystics 

suivre,  si  Ton  accepte,  si  Ton  abandonne, 
si  Ton  '  franchit  le  pas.' "  ^ 

Soj  let  none  make  a  mistake.  Purgation  is 
not  solely  a  matter  of  cleansing  the  soul  from 
sinfulness,  and  from  actual  committed  sins,  hard 
as  all  that  may  be.  But  it  is  "  to  give  up  once 
for  all,"  "to  make  the  entire  sacrifice"  ;  words 
easy  to  write,  easy  to  utter,  but  to  practise, 
how  infinitely,  almost  intolerably  hard.  As 
long  as  the  world  lasts,  the  pain-wrung  cry 
from  Gethsemane  will  stand  as  the  sobbing 
prayer  of  the  last  extremity  of  the  soul,  which 
in  suffering  makes  "  no  reservation  "  :  "  If  it 
be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  Me  :  never- 
theless not  as  I  will,  but  as  Thou  wilt." 

"  Ce  premier  pas  "  need  not  necessarily  be 
obvious,  apparent  to  others,  a  material  depriva- 
tion, a  selt-stripping  which  the  world  at  large 
can  perceive  or  chatter  about.  The  main- 
spring of  it  all  is  the  inner  mood  which  sets 
resolutely  to  surrender  whatever  God  demands  ; 
it  may  be  little,  much,  or  all  ;  but  the  one 
thing  fatal  to  its  perfection  is  the  hesitating, 
but  so  common,  qualification,  "  anything, 
everything,   but  that  !  " 

In  spite  of  the  quaint  humour,  the  often 
homely  simplicity  and  intense  directness  and 
the  restrained  sobriety  of  the  early  English 
Mystics,  a  self-containment  which  to  students 

'  Rev.  Pere  Bremond,  Histoire  Litteraire  du  Sentiment 
Religieux  en  France,  vol.  v,  p.   25. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       7 1 

of  Latin  and  Flemish  Mystics  may  perhaps 
sometimes  seem  chilly,  we  must  not  deceive 
ourselves  about  the  reality  of  their  fervour. 
They  really  did  make  no  reservation,  they 
actually  reached  the  point  where  human  fears — 
no  matter  what  may  be  the  seeming  magnitude 
of  possibly  impending  dangers — have  passed 
into  the  place  where  they  can  be  felt  no  more  ; 
at  any  rate,  this  is  true  of  our  fourteenth-century 
mystics.  With  them  (if  possibly  Walter  Hilton 
should  be  excepted,  though  his  disclaimer  of 
practising  mysticism  is  not  altogether  convinc- 
ing) it  is  no  question  of  writing  from  the 
outside  of  an  experience  which  others,  but 
not  they  themselves,  have  had  :  these  men 
and  women  have  "  given  all  for  All." 

It  is  something  less  intense  than  this  which 
is  to  be  found  in  Hali  Meidenhad^  edited  by 
Mr.  Cockayne  for  the  Early  English  Text 
Society.^  As  that  text  may  not  be  accessible, 
or  even  easily  intelligible  to  every  reader,  I  have 
rendered  the  most  pertinent  passages  into  a  form 
which  I  hope  avoids  the  obscurity  and  yet  keeps 
some  real  flavour  of  the  original.  The  refer- 
ence in  the  first  passage  is,  as  is  obvious,  to  the 
"religious  "  life,  a  reminder  as  to  the  meaning 
of  vocation  ;  but  the  mystic  may  find  in  it 
a  summons  to  that  simple,  deliberate  detach- 
ment and  self-oblation  without  which  mystical 

'   Original  Series,  No.  18. 


72  English  Mystics 

union  must  ever  remain  impossible  :  "  Serve 
God  alone,  and  all  things  shall  for  thee  turn  to 
good.  And  take  ^  thee  to  Him  truly,  and 
thou  shalt  be  free  from  all  worldly  vexations, 
nor  may  any  evil  harm  thee.  .  .  .  And  such 
sweetness  thou  shalt  find  in  His  love  and  in 
His  service,  and  have  so  much  mirth  thereof 
and  liking  in  thine  heart  that  thou  wouldest 
not  change  that  (state)  thou  livest  in  for  to  be 
a  crowned  queen.  So  gracious  is  our  Lord 
that  He  wills  not  that  His  chosen  be  without 
meed  here  ;  for  so  much  comfort  is  in  His 
grace  that  everything  fits  them  that  they  see  ; 
and  though  it  seem  to  other  men  that  they 
sufi^er  hardships  it  grieveth  them  not,  but 
seemeth  to  them  soft,  and  they  have  more 
delight  therein  than  any  other  hath  in 
pleasure  of  the  world.  This,  our  Lord  giveth 
them  here  as  an  earnest  of  the  eternal  meed 
that  shall  come  thereafter.^  Thus  have  God's 
friends  in  wonderful  wise  all  the  fruit  of  this 
world,  which  they  have  forsaken.  And  heaven 
at  the  end." 

A  remarkable  passage  in  the  Ancren  Rivple 
may  be  compared  with  this.  The  author 
divided  the  book  into  eight  parts,  of  which 
the  subject-matter  of  the  seventh  holds  out 
most  likelihood   of  mystical  treatment.     Yet, 

»  Betake. 

'  This  passage  is  easily  applicable  to  the  special  favours 
of  the  mystic. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       j^ 

in  Part  I,  made  up  as  it  is  of  regulations  for 
and  advice  concerning  the  conduct  of  services, 
i.e.  the  Mass  and  the  Hours,  this  counsel  is 
given  :  "  After  the  kiss  of  peace  in  the  Mass, 
when  the  priest  consecrates,  forget  there  all 
the  world,  and  there  be  entirely  out  of  the 
body  ;  then,  in  glowing  love,  embrace  your 
beloved  Saviour  Who  is  come  down  from 
heaven  into  your  breast's  bower,  and  hold 
Him  fast  until  He  shall  have  granted  what- 
ever you  wish  for."  ^ 

Another  important  point,  viz.  that  the 
degree  of  union  which  can  be  achieved 
depends  partly  on  the  degree  of  human  love 
and  capacity  of  vision,  is  made,  implicitly, 
at  the  end  of  a  long  poem,  A  Moral  Ode, 
belonging  to  the  thirteenth  century,  which  is 
preserved  in  a  manuscript  at  Jesus  College, 
Oxford  : — 

Afterwards,  they  may  see  the  Lord  as  He  certainly  is, 
He  only  may  and  shall  be  men's  and  angels'  bliss. 
They  shall  see  more  of  Him  who  here  loved  Him  more, 
And  of  His  mercy  and  pity  saw  and  knew  more. 

The  closing  argument  of  Hali  Meidenhad 
is  that  since  the  "  religious  "  is  the  spouse  of 
God,  therefore  her  soul's  virtues  —  holiness, 
temperance,  sympathy,  and  the  rest  —  are 
spiritual    offspring  ;    while,    contrariwise,    the 

'  Ancren  Riwle  (in  "The  King's  Classics,"  No.  20), 
p.  27. 


74  English  Mystics 

unfaithful     "  religious "     brings     forth     "  the 
devil's  eldest  daughter,  Pride." 

Then,  the  author  emphasizes  the  absolute 
necessity  for  meekness,  the  utter  incompati- 
bility of  pride  with  any  kind  or  degree  of 
goodness  ;  e.g.  :  "  If  thou  hast  maidenhood 
meekness  and  mildness,  God  is  within  thine 
heart.  But  if  there  be  contempt  or  any  pride 
in  it,  He  is  an  outlaw  therefrom,  for  they 
cannot  anyways  bed  in  one  heart  ;  they  must 
not  dwell  together  in  heaven.  Thence,  God 
cast  her  out  as  soon  as  it  was  born  ;  and  as  she 
knew  not  by  what  way  she  came  thither,  so 
she  can  never  more  find  her  way  there  again." 

The  swift  return  from  this  characteristic 
quaint  directness  and  humour  to  deep  devo- 
tion is  not  less  characteristic  of  our  early 
mystics :  "  Preserve  thyself,  maiden,  against 
her.  She  was  born  of  a  pure  kin  equal  with 
angels  :  and  in  purest  breasts  she  breedeth 
yet.  The  best  she  has  beguiled, ^  and  well 
may  she  who  overcame  an  angel  be  victor  over 
man.  She  is  not  (tound)  in  clothes  ;  nor  out- 
wardly in  parti-coloured  dress,  though  other- 
whiles  this  is  the  mark  and  sign  of  her.  But 
under  white  or  black,  and  as  well  under  grey  2 
as  under  green  and  grey,  she  hideth  in  the 
heart.  So  soon  as  thou  callest  thyself  better 
than   another,  be  it  for   whatever   it  may   be, 

'  One  version  reads  assailed. 
'  i.e.  under  the  monastic  habit. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       75 

or  hast  contempt  of  any  one,  and  thinkest 
unreasonably  and  mockingly  of  that  which  it  is 
said  another  takes  pride  in,  thou  dost  mar  thy 
maidenhood,  breakest  thy  wedlock  with  God, 
and  hast  offspring  of  His  foe." 

After  this  description  of  one  step  along  the 
Purgative  Way,  there  follows  a  moving  address 
on  the  supreme  value  of  meekness  as  exempli- 
fied in  our  Lady  ;  and,  having  exhorted  these 
anchoresses  to  copy  that  pattern,  the  writer 
adds  :  "A  maiden  in  her  maidenhood  without 
meekness  is  as  unlighted  oil  in  a  lamp."  One 
remarkable  phrase,  which  may  surprise  those 
who  can  see  in  the  mystic  nothing  loftier  than 
unintelligent  emotion,  deserves  to  be  rescued 
from  this  almost  forgotten  treatise  :  "  Our 
intellect  is  God's  daughter." 

It  has  been  said  in  a  recent  book  on  mysti- 
cism in  general  that  "  the  point  of  contact 
between  man's  life  and  the  divine  life  .  .  . 
has  been  given  many  names.  .  .  .  Sometimes 
it  is  called  the  Synteresis,  the  keeper  or  pre- 
server of  his  being  ;  sometimes  the  Spark  of 
the  Soul,  the  Filnklein  of  the  German  mystics  ; 
sometimes  its  Apex,  the  point  at  which  it 
touches  the  heavens.  Then  with  a  sudden 
flight  to  the  other  end  of  the  symbolic  scale 
...  it  is  called  the  Ground  of  the  Soul."  ^ 
Among  all  these  symbolic,  picturesque  attempts 

'   Evelyn  Underhill,  Mysticism,  p.  64. 


76  English  Mystics 

to  express  the  inexpressible,  this  Englishman, 
with  that  old  indigenous  racial  knack  of 
personifying,  slips  in  his  simple,  illuminating 
metaphor,  "  our  intellect  is  God's  daughter."  i 

Some  have  guessed  that  Hali  Meidenhad  and 
the  Ancren  Riwle  are  by  the  same  author, 
supposed  to  be  either  Herbert  or  Richard 
Poore,  who  were  successively  Bishops  of 
Sarum  between  1194  and  1229.2  Cardinal 
Gasquet  inclines  to  Herbert,  who  was  trans- 
lated from  Sarum  to  Durham.  Father  Dal- 
gairns  in  his  Prefatory  Essay  to  an  edition  of 
Walter  Hilton's  Scale  of  Perfection  suggests  that 
the  author  was  a  Dominican  ;  and  his  theory 
was  supported  by  Father  Vincent  McNabb, 
when  in  the  J^dodern  Languages  ReYiew  for 
December,  1920,  he  brought  forward  some 
weighty  evidence  to  show  that  a  Dominican 
wrote  it  not  earlier  than  1230.  There  for  the 
purposes  of  this  book,  whose  object  is  less 
scholarship  than  realization  and  devotion,  the 
question  of  authorship  may  be  left,  with  this 
slight  indication  of  matters  of  fact  and  of 
literary  speculation. 

Whoever  wrote  these  books,  there  is,  all 
through  the  Ancren  Riwle,  a  strain  of  tender 
and  solicitous  persuasion  from  the  priestly 
counsellor  to  the  anchoresses  which,  centuries 

'  "  ure  wit  Is  godes  dohter." 

'  Preface  to  Ancren  Rivfle.  No.  20  of  "The  King's 
Classics." 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       77 

after,  will  remind  some  readers  of  the  sermons 
preached  by  Dr.  Neale  to  the  Sisters  of 
S.  Margaret's,  East  Grinstead,  specially  those 
on  the  Song  of  Songs.  Of  this  aspect  of  the 
Ancren  Ri-^le  Jusserand  wrote  :  "  His  doctrine 
may  be  summed  up  in  a  word  :  he  teaches 
self-renunciation.  But  he  does  it  in  so  kindly 
and  affectionate  a  tone,  that  the  life  he  wishes 
his  penitents  to  submit  to  does  not  seem  too 
bitter  ;  his  voice  is  so  sweet,  that  the  existence 
he  describes  seems  almost  sweet."  ^ 

Hali  Meidenhad  presents  a  half-way  stage 
between  the  gentle  beauty  of  the  Ancren  Riwle 
and  the  grim  pitilessness  of  the  following 
stanzas,  from  a  manuscript  in  the  Bodleian, 
entitled  ubi  sunt  qui  ante  nos  fuerunt,  fierce 
analogue  in  the  spiritual  sphere  as  these  seem 
of  Villon's  oil  sont  les  neiges  d' ant  an  : — 

Where  be  they  who  before  us  were  ? — 
Led  dogs  and  hawks  bore, 
And  had  fields  and  woods  ? 
The  rich  ladies  in  their  bower, 
Who  in  their  tresses  wore  gold 
With  their  bright  complexion. 

They  ate  and  drank  and  made  them  glad  ; 
Their  life  was  all  with  games  led  ; 
Before  them  men  kneeled  down  ; 
Themselves  they  bore  most  exceedingly  high, 
And  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye 
Their  souls  were  utterly  lost. 

'  Literary  History  of  the  English  People,  vol.  i,  p.  212. 


7  8  English  Mystics 

Where  is  that  laughing  and  that  song  ? 

That  trailing  about  and  proud  carriage, 

The  hawks  and  the  hounds  ? 

All  that  joy  is  gone  away 

That  weal  has  come  to  "  well-away  !  " 

To  many  hard  hours. 

Their  Paradise  they  enjoyed  here 
And  now  together  in  hell  they  lie 
The  fire  it  burneth   ever. 
Long  is  ever,  and  long  is  always, 
Long  is  alas,  and  long  is  woe, 
Thence  they  come  again  never. 

Even  in  a  translation  with  all  the  rime  and 
much  of  the  rhythm  gone,  this  dour  little 
poem  still  preserves  much  of  its  original  force. 
If  it  be  objected  that  it  is  absurd  to  compare 
writings  for  nuns  with  those  concerning 
worldlings,  we  must  remember  that  neither 
religion  nor  mysticism  is  the  monopoly  of 
the  cloistered,  that  Mary  and  Martha  are 
made  of  the  same  human  stuff,  and  both 
have  souls.  Pere  Henri  Bremond  in  his 
exposition  of  the  mysticism  of  the  great 
seventeenth  century  Jesuit,  Louis  Lallemant, 
observes  :  "  Le  pere  Lallemant  partage  done 
le  monde  religieux  en  deux  classes  :  d'une 
part  le  petit  groupe  des  convertis,  des  '  in- 
terieurs,'  des  '  parfaits,'  des  *  contemplatifs  '  ; 
.  .  .  d'autre  part,  les  non-convertis,  les 
m^diocres."  ^     But  the  case  and  condition  of 

^  Henri  Bremond,  Histoire  Litteraire  du  Sentiment  Reli- 
gieux en  Fratice,  vol.  v,  p.  i6. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       79 

the  first  small  class  needs  further  exposition, 
and  so  Pere  Bremond  quotes  the  follow- 
ing passage  from  La  Doctrine  Spirituelle 
of  Pere  Lallemant  :  "  II  arrive  d'ordinaire 
deux  conversions  a  la  plupart  des  saints,  et 
aux  religieux  qui  se  rendent  parfaits  ;  I'une  par 
laquelle  ils  se  devouent  au  service  de  Dieu, 
I'autre  par  laquelle,  ils  se  donnent  entierement 
a  la  perfection.  .  .  .  Cette  seconde  conversion 
n'arrive  pas  a  tous  les  religieux,  et  c'est  par 
leur  negligence."  ^  Yet,  this  division  holds 
of  the  whole  body  of  "  professing  "  people  :  for 
there  are  mystics  within  and  without  Religious 
Orders  ;  and  of  all  of  us  it  is  true,  whatever 
our  response,  that  we  are  "  called  to  be 
saints." 

But  some  of  our  mediaeval  mystics,  regard- 
ing the  perfect  mystical  life  as  only  possible 
by  the  way  of  contemplation,  rather  tended  to 
conclude  that  its  attainment  was,  if  not  exclu- 
sively, yet  almost  only  possible  for  members 
of  contemplative  Orders,  or  for  solitary  con- 
templatives.  Nevertheless,  so  far  as  men  can 
judge,  this  is  not  true  to  facts,  though  of 
course  mystics  outside  Orders,  living  at  duty's 
call  "  in  the  world,"  must  withdraw  periodically 
from  that  world's  bustling  concerns  to  the  peace 
of  contemplation.  Richard  Rolle,  in  The  Form 
of  Perfect  Livings  which  he  wrote  for  Margaret 

'   op.  cit.,  p.  I  5. 


8o  English  Mystics 

Kirkby  (a  treatise,  1  think,  not  less  beautiful 
than  the  better-known  Fire  of  Lo^e  2^\-\d^  Mending 
of  Life)  wrote  thus  :  "  Contemplative  life  has 
two  parts — a  lower  and  a  higher.  The  lower 
part  is  meditation  of  holy  writing,  that  is  God's 
Word,  and  in  other  good  thoughts  and  sweet 
that  men  have  of  the  grace  of  God.  .  .  .  The 
higher  part  of  contemplation  is  beholding  and 
yearning  after  the  things  of  heaven  and  joy 
in  the  Holy  Ghost  ;  that  men  have  oft,  altho' 
it  be  so  that  they  be  not  praying  with  the 
mouth,  but  only  thinking  of  God,  and  of  the 
beauty  of  angels  and  of  holy  souls.  Then 
may  I  say  that  contemplation  is  a  wonderful 
joy  of  God's  love." 

Richard,  whose  temperament  not  seldom 
made  intercourse  with  others  a  sore  and  painful 
thing,  forbears  to  confine  his  "  even  Christians  " 
in  classes  of  his  own  making  :  he  will  rather 
lay  before  sympathetic  hearers  the  character- 
istics of  the  Way,  and  the  sweetness  of  the 
goal. 

Walter  Hilton,  still  more  definitely,  refrains 
from  separating  people  into  actives  and  con- 
templatives,  with  sage  elasticity  dividing  our 
possible  conditions  of  life  into  active  and 
contemplative,  thus  deliberately  leaving  the 
way  open  for  the  contemplative  spaces  of  a  life 
spent,  if  need  be,  in  the  work  of  the  active 
world  :  "  These  works  "^.e.  the  corporal 
and  spiritual  works  of  mercy — -"  though  they 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       8  i 

be  but  active,  yet  they  help  very  much,  and 
dispose  a  man  in  the  beginning  to  attain  after- 
wards to  contemplation,  if  they  be  used  with 
discretion."  ^ 

His  definition  of  contemplative  life  stresses 
not  the  outward  circumstances  but  the  inner 
state  of  a  man  or  woman  :  "Contemplative 
life  consisteth  in  perfect  love  and  charity,  felt 
inwardly  by  spiritual  virtues,  and  in  a  true  and 
certain  sight  and  knowledge  of  God  and 
spiritual  matters."  2 

Since  there  is  little  general  knowledge  of 
English  mystics,  it  seems  desirable  to  attempt 
some  broad  sketch  of  the  fundamental  aims 
and  means  of  our  mediaeval  mystics.  The 
only  method  of  dealing  at  all  effectually  in 
a  small  compass  with  such  a  large  body  of 
work  as  is  presented  by  all  the  writings  men- 
tioned on  a  previous  page,  is  to  treat  it  on 
some  definite  plan.  It  is  impossible  in  a 
restricted  space  and  dull  in  any  to  pass  authors 
in  review  one  after  another.  The  best  way 
will  be  to  concentrate  mainly  on  four  matters, 
considering  the  attitude  of  our  early  mystics 
towards  the  senses,  and  then  their  handling 
of  the  special  mystical  states,  Purgation,  Illu- 
mination, and  Union. 

The  function  and  scope  of  the  five  senses 
is  a  problem  which,  speaking  broadly,  divides 


^  Scale  cfTerfection,  Bk.  I,  pt.  i,  ch.  ii.      ^  ibid.,  ch.  iv. 

G 


82  English  Mystics 

psychologists  into  two  schools — the  sensation- 
ist  and  the  intellectualist.  Within  this  broad 
division  there  are  many  smaller  camps,  but  in 
essence  the  scnsationist  claims  that  all  our 
experience  arises  out  of  and  is  confined  to 
"  sense,"  however  much  rearranged,  recom- 
pounded,  elaborated,  refined  ;  and  however 
far,  in  undergoing  these  processes,  it  may 
seem  to  become  differentiated  from  its 
original  sources.  The  intellectualists  main- 
tain, on  the  other  hand,  that  in  experience 
there  is  an  element  which  is  "extra-sensuous." 
As  Professor  Michael  Maher,  S.J.,  has  writ- 
ten :  "  By  affirming  the  existence  of  a  faculty 
specifically  distinct  from  that  of  sense,  we 
mean  to  hold  that  the  mind  possesses  the 
power  of  performing  operations  beyond  the 
scope  of  sense."  ^ 

It  is  generally  a  wise  precaution  to  drive 
home  a  philosophical  plea  with  a  concrete 
illustration.  Not  a  bad  instance  of  this 
*'  power  of  performing  operations  beyond  the 
scope  of  sense  "  may  be  found  in  the  appre- 
hension of  the  relation  between  two  objects. 
The  senses — sight,  touch,  and  the  rest — can 
bring  before  me  the  accumulation  of  qualities 
belonging  respectively,  let  us  say,  to  a  carrot  and 
to  a  parsnip.  All  that  perception  of  colour, 
shape,  texture,  taste,  odour,  etc.,  can  resolve 

'  "Psychology,  Stonyhurst  Manuals  of  Philosophy,  p.  231. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       83 

itself  into  this  or  that  sensation  ;  but  my  con- 
ception of  their  particular  relation  which  we  call 
likeness  or  unlikeness,  together  with  the  exact 
degree  of  this,  cannot  be  "  given  in  sense  "  ; 
it  is  intellectual.  No  one  can  hold  that  there 
exists  some  concrete  entity — viz.  the  precise 
difference  between  a  carrot  and  a  parsnip — 
which  entity  stimulates  my  senses,  as  the 
carrot  does  in  this  way  and  the  parsnip  in 
that. 

Reflection  on  our  inner  states,  e.g.  on  some 
problem  of  "  honour,"  is  another  instance  of 
"extra-sensual"  experience.  No  "moral"  ex- 
perience has  a  basis  of"  sense." 

This  deep  dividing  line  which  goes  to  the 
very  bottom  of  philosophy  could  not  but  be 
obvious  to  the  mystics.  Equally  unmistak- 
able to  them  was  the  strange  power  of  the 
senses.  To  the  whole  problem  our  mystics 
adopted  a  singularly  balanced,  sagacious,  and 
wholesome  attitude.  Perceiving  that  if  the 
five  senses  be  not  the  sole  sources  and  instru- 
ments of  human  experience  they  still  play  an 
exceedingly  important  part  in  it,  adding  too 
an  element  of  subtle  danger  difficult  to  gauge, 
they  asked  themselves  less  What  is  their 
source  }  than  the  more  practical  question.  What 
is  to  be  done  with  them  }  The  distinction 
between  inner  and  outer,  between  the  life  of 
the  body  with  its  five  senses  and  that  of  the 
spirit,  is  clearly  announced  by  the  author  of 


84  English  Mystics 

the  Ancren  Riwle  :  "  We  are  to  treat  of  the 
theological  law,  the  rules  of  which  are  two  : 
the  one  relates  to  the  right  conduct  of  the 
heart  ;  the  other  to  the  regulation  of  the  out- 
ward life."  I  And  again,  still  more  explicitly  : 
"  Ye  should  by  all  means,  with  all  your  might, 
and  all  your  strength,  keep  well  the  inward 
rule,  and  for  its  sake  the  outward.  The 
inward  rule  is  always  alike.  The  outward  is 
various,  because  every  one  ought  so  to  observe 
the  outward  rule  as  that  the  body  may  there- 
with best  serve  the  inward."  2 

Here  the  spiritual  and  the  sense-life  are  not 
only  differentiated,  but  the  latter  is  deliber- 
ately subordinated  to  the  former. 

The  interesting  fact  remains  that  this  coun- 
sellor forbids  the  anchoresses  to  promise 
absolutely  that  they  will  keep  the  external 
rule  :  "  The  inward  .  .  .  rule  is  framed  not 
by  man's  contrivance,  but  by  the  command 
of  God.  Therefore  it  ever  is  and  shall  be  the 
same,  without  mixture  and  without  change  ; 
and  all  men  ought  ever  invariably  to  observe 
it.  But  all  men  cannot,  nor  need  they  nor 
ought  they  to  keep  the  outward  rule  in  the 
same  unvaried  manner.  .  .  .  The  external  rule, 
which  1  called  the  handmaid,  is  of  man's  con- 
trivance ;  nor  is  it  instituted  for  anything  else 
but  to  serve  the  internal  law.  .  .  .  Wherefore 

'  Ancren  Rizvle,  No.  20  in  "  The  King's  Classics,"  p.  i. 
^  ibid.,  p.  3. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       8  5 

this  rule  may  be  changed  and  varied  according 
to  every  one's  state  and  circumstances.  .  .  . 
No  anchorite,  by  my  advice,  shall  make  pro- 
fession, that  is  vow  to  keep  anything  as 
commanded,  except  those  things,  that  is 
obedience,  chastity,  and  constancy  as  to  her 
abode  .  .  .  for  whoso  undertaketh  anything, 
and  promises  to  God  to  do  it  as  His  command, 
bindeth  herself  thereto  and  sinneth  mortally 
in  breaking  it,  if  she  break  it  wilfully  and 
intentionally.  .  .  .  Therefore,  my  dear  sisters, 
that  which  I  shall  write  to  you  in  the  first 
and  especially  in  the  last  part  of  your 
book,  you  should  not  vow  it  but  keep  it  in 
your  heart  and  perform  it  as  though  you  had 
vowed  it."  I 

The  eighth  and  last  part  of  the  book  opens 
with  a  reminder  of  the  above  advice  :  "  I  said 
before  at  the  commencement,  that  ye  ought 
not,  like  unwise  people,  to  promise  to  keep 
any  of  the  external  rules.  I  say  the  same 
still,  nor  do  I  write  them  for  any  but  you 
alone."  2 

The  author  of  the  Riwle  devotes  Part  II  of 
the  book  to  the  subject  of  Keeping  the  Heart : 
and  here  the  importance  attached  to  the  five 
senses  as  contributors  to,  or  enemies  of,  the 
spiritual  life  is  clearly  shown  by  the  fact 
that  this  section  consists  of  five  chapters — Of 

'  pp.  4-7.  '  p.  212. 


86  English  Mystics 

Sight  ;  of  Tasting  (including  speech  as  a  func- 
tion of  the  mouth)  ;  of  Hearing  ;  of  Smell  ; 
of  Touch.  At  the  outset,  the  author  writes  : 
"The  wardens  of  the  heart  are  the  five  senses  : 
sight,  hearing,  taste,  smelling,  and  every  mem- 
ber's feeling  ;  and  we  shall  speak  of  them  all, 
for  whosoever  guards  these  well  doth  Solomon's 
command.  He  keepeth  well  his  heart  and 
the  health  of  his  soul."  ^ 

The  following  are  typical  passages  from  the 
chapter  on  sight.  Commenting  upon  Eve's 
fall,  he  warns  his  readers  "  that  thus  did  sight 
go  before  and  prepare  the  way  for  guilty 
desire."  ~  A  few  pages  further  on  he  quotes 
from  and  elaborates  S.  Bernard  :  " '  As  death 
came,'  says  S.  Bernard, '  into  the  world  through 
sin,  so  through  eye-windows  death  hath  his 
entrance  into  the  soul.'  Lord  Christ  !  how 
men  would  shut  fast  every  aperture  !  Where- 
fore .^  That  they  might  shut  out  death — 
death  of  carnal  life  :  and  will  not  an  anchorite 
stop  up  her  eye-windows,  against  death  of  hell 
and  of  the  soul  .''  And  with  good  right  may 
eye-windows  be  called  evil  windows,  for  they 
have  done  much  evil  to  many  an  anchorite."  3 

In  striking  fashion  he  glosses  a  passage  from 
Job  :  "  What  do  men  think  with  eyes  }  God 
knows  it  full  well,  for  after  the  eye  comes 
the  thought,  and  then  the  deed. "4    Jeremiah  he 

^  ibid.,  p.  39.  =  p.  42.  3  p.  ^9. 

*  Job  xxxi.  I. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       87 

credits   with    a    telling   phrase  :     "  Alas,   mine 
eyes  have  robbed  all  my  soul."  ^ 

Of  the  second  sense,  taste,  the  author  says 
but  little,  and  even  that  little  is  relegated  to 
Part  VIII,  the  last  in  the  book,  where  he 
deals  with  the  external  rule.  Taste,  so  he 
directs,  is  to  be  mortified  in  two  ways,  first 
by  regulation  of  quantity  :  "  Ye  shall  eat 
twice  every  day  from  Easter  until  the  Holy 
Rood  day,  the  later  which  is  in  harvest, 
except  on  Fridays  and  Ember  Days,  and 
procession  days  and  vigils.  In  those  days 
and  in  the  Advent,  ye  shall  not  eat  anything 
white,  except  necessity  require  it.  The  other 
half  year  ye  shall  fast  always,  except  only  on 
Sunday."  2  Secondly,  taste  was  to  be  disci- 
plined by  the  kind  and  quality  of  the  food 
eaten  :  "  Ye  shall  eat  no  flesh  nor  lard  except 
in  great  sickness  ;  or  whosoever  is  infirm 
may  eat  pottage  without  scruple  ;  and  accustom 
yourselves  to  little  drink.  Nevertheless,  dear 
sisters,  your  meat  and  your  drink  have  seemed 
to  me  less  than  I  would  have  it.  Fast  no  day 
upon  bread  and  water,  except  ye  have  leave. 
There  are  anchoresses  who  make  their  meals 
with  their  friends  outside  the  convent.  That 
is    too    much    friendship.   .   .   .     Make   ye    no 

^  Tep'igi  foedus  cum  oculis  meis  ut  ne  cogitarem  quidem  de 
virgine.  The  Vulgate  version  is  given  as  that,  up  to  the 
Reformation,  was  the  text  of  the  Western  Church. 

^  Ancren  Riwle,  p.  313. 


88  English  Mystics 

banquetingSj  nor  encourage  any  strange  vaga- 
bond fellows  to  come  to  the  gate  ;  though 
no  other  evil  come  of  it  than  their  immoderate 
talking,  it  might  sometimes  prevent  heavenly 
thoughts."  I 

Such  passages  as  these  make  the  severity  of 
the  Riwle  obvious.  Elsewhere  their  director 
still  more  expressly  and  forcibly  forbids  the 
indulgence  of  taste  :  "Anchoresses  .  .  .  ought 
never  more  to  grumble  on  account  of  either 
meat  or  drink,  be  it  never  so  stale  ;  if  it  may  be 
eaten,  let  her  eat  and  devoutly  thank  God  for  it, 
and  if  it  may  not,  let  her  grieve  that  she  must 
ask  for  more  palatable  food.  But  rather  than 
that  asking  should  give  rise  to  any  offence,  she 
ought  to  die,  as  a  martyr,  in  her  discomfort."  2 

But  there  is  some  one  besides  the  anchor- 
esses to  be  considered  !  This  kindly  director, 
through  his  anxiety  to  save  them  from  worldly 
complications,  forbade  them  to  keep  cattle  or 
to  carry  on  any  traffic  ;  still  he  genially  made  an 
exception  :  "Ye  shall  not  possess  any  beast,  my 
dear  sister,  but  a  cat  one."  He  would  perhaps 
forgive  a  question  which  will  force  itself;  with 
such  a  menu,  what  did  the  poor  cat  eat,  especi- 
ally on  the  days  when  even  fish  was  banned  } 

However,  to  the  author  of  the  T^iwle  taste 
is  not  the  main  sense  in  the  mouth.  Oddly,  he 
calls  the  tongue  a  sense,  and  in  his  emphasis 

'  ibid.,  pp.  313,  314.  »  p.  81. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       8  9 

on  the  harmfulness  of  talk,  he  loses  sight  almost 
of  taste. 

First  he  forbids  much  talking.  This  passage 
is  such  an  excellent  instance  of  his  constant 
mingling  of  delicate  humour  with  genuine 
spiritual  insight  that  it  shall  be  quoted  whole  : 
"  Eve,  in  Paradise,  held  a  long  conversation 
with  the  serpent,  and  told  him  all  the  lesson 
that  God  had  taught  her  and  Adam  concerning 
the  apple  ;  and  thus  the  fiend,  by  her  talk, 
understood  at  once  her  weakness,  and  found 
out  the  way  to  ruin  her.  Our  Lady  S.  Mary 
acted  in  a  quite  different  manner.  She  told 
the  angel  no  tale,  but  asked  him  briefly  that 
which  she  wanted  to  know.  Do  you,  my  dear 
sisters,  imitate  our  Lady,  and  not  the  cackling 
Eve.  Wherefore,  let  an  anchoress,  whatsoever 
she  be,  keep  silence  as  much  as  ever  she  can 
and  may.  Let  her  not  have  the  hen's  nature. 
When  the  hen  has  laid,  she  must  needs  cackle. 
And  what  does  she  get  by  it  .''  Straightway 
comes  the  chough  and  robs  her  of  her  eggs 
and  devours  all  that  of  which  she  should  have 
brought  forth  her  live  birds.  And  just  so,  the 
wicked  chough,  the  devil,  beareth  away  from 
the  cackling  anchoresses,  and  swalloweth  up 
all  the  goods  they  have  brought  forth,  and 
which  ought,  as  birds,  to  bear  them  up  towards 
heaven,  if  it  had  not  been  cackled."  ^ 

'  pp.  51-2. 


90  English  Mystics 

He  then  proceeds  to  condemn  all  idle  talk. 
"'What  is  holy  conversation?'  as  S.  Anselm 
saith.  She  grinds  grit  who  prates  idly.  The 
two  cheeks  are  the  two  grind-stones,  the  tongue 
is  the  clapper.  Look,  dear  sister,  that  your 
cheeks  never  grind  anything  but  soul-food, 
nor  your  ears  hear  anything  but  soul-heal  ; 
and  shut  not  only  your  ears  but  your  eye- 
windows  against  idle  conversation."  ^  As  a 
matter  of  course,  he  forbids  bad  language,^ 
and  then  concludes  the  whole  matter  with 
Seneca's  advice,  "  1  will  that  you  speak  seldom, 
and  then  but  little."  3  For,  as  he  truly  says, 
in  a  picturesque  phrase  which  recalls  many 
a  saying  of  Rolle,  "  with  the  flitting  word  the 
soul  flits  away."  4 

His  warning  against  an  occasional  silence 
which  will  afterwards  compensate  itself  with 
a  flood  of  words  is  quaintly  direct,  and  filled 
with  penetrating  insight  into  our  dismal  human 
ways  :  "  Many  keep  in  their  words  to  let  more 
out,  as  men  do  water  at  the  mill-dam,  and  so 
did  Job's  friends  that  were  to  comfort  him  ; 
they  sat  still  full  seven  nights  ;  but  when  they 
had  all  begun  to  speak  they  never  knew  how 
to  stop  their  importunate  tongues."  5  Here 
the  translator  spoils  the  original  Middle  Eng- 
lish, which  is  peone  kud  heo  ne)>ere  astunten  hore 
cleppe.     'Stop  their  importunate  tongues'  loses 


ibid., p.  55.       =p.  55.      3  p.  56.      4  p.  58.      5  p.  56. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       9 1 

the  sound  suggestion  in  the  closing  words  ; 
muffle  their  clacking  is  the  idea,  astunten  being 
derived  from  the  old  verb  to  blunt  or  dull 
a  thing. 

Finally,  the  author  divides  evil  speech  into 
poisonous^  which  includes  heresy,  deliberate 
lyings  backbiting^  and  flattery^  and  into  foul 
speech,  the  latter  covering  all  uncleanly  and 
idle  conversation  and  utterance.  Of  the 
first  he  writes — and  we  may  well  wish  it 
were  still  true  :  "  Heresy,  God  be  thanked, 
prevaileth  not  in  England."  ^  Of  lying 
he  says  :  "  Lying  is  so  evil  a  thing  that 
S.  Austin  saith,  *  That  thou  shouldest  not 
tell  a  lie  to  shield  thy  father  from  death.' "  ~ 
Backbiters  and  flatterers  he  dismisses  contemp- 
tuously as  the  "devil's  dustmen."  3 

Having  written  so  much  about  speech,  he 
sums  up  his  advice  about  listening  in  one 
weighty  passage  :  "  Now,  my  dear  sisters, 
keep  your  ears  far  from  all  evil  speaking, 
which  is  thus  threefold  —  idle,  foul,  and 
venomous.  People  say  of  anchoresses  that 
almost  every  one  hath  an  old  woman  to 
feed  her  ears  ;  a  prating  gossip  who  tells 
her  all  the  tales  of  the  land ;  a  magpie  who 
chatters  to  her  of  everything  she  sees  or 
hears;  so  that  it  is  a  common  saying,  'From 
miln  4   and    from    market,    from    smithy    and 

'  p.  63.        ^  p.  63.        3  p,  64.        4  Mill. 


92  English  Mystics 

from  nunnery,  men  bring  tidings.'  Christ 
knows  this  is  a  sad  tale  ;  that  a  nunnery, 
which  should  be  the  most  solitary  place  of 
all,  should  be  evened  to  those  very  three 
places  in  which  there  is  most  idle  discourse. 
But  would  to  God,  dear  sisters,  that  all  the 
others  were  as  free  as  ye  are  of  such  folly."  ^ 

Of  the  fourth  sense,  smell,  he  quaintly 
suggests  that  "  sometimes  the  fiend  maketh 
something  to  stink  that  ye  ought  to  use, 
because  he  would  have  you  to  avoid  it  ;  and 
at  other  times  the  deceiver  maketh  a  sweet 
smell  to  come  ...  in  order  that  ye  may  think 
that  God,  on  account  of  your  holy  life,  sends 
you  His  grace  and  His  comfort,  and  so  think 
well  of  yourselves  and  become  proud."  2 

Lastly,  he  deals  with  touch,  which  he  extends 
to  sensation  "throughout  the  whole  body." 
He  urges  that  just  because  it  affects  the  whole 
person  it  should  be  specially  guarded  :  "Our 
Lord  knew  it  well,  and  therefore  He  chose  to 
endure  most  suffering  in  that  sense,  to  comfort 
us  if  we  suffer  pain  therein.  .  .  .  Our  Lord  in 
this  sense  had  pain,  not  in  one  place  only  but 
in  all,  not  only  over  all  His  Body,  but  inwardly 
in  His  blessed  Soul."  3 

To  these  closing  words  a  modern  psycholo- 
gist might  take  exception,  unless  he  were  of 
the  many  who  resolve   all   human   experience 

'   Jncren  Ritvle,  p.  67.  »  ibid.,  p.  79.  ^  P-  83. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       93 

ultimately  into  sense  effects.  Having  pointed 
out  that  pain  is  sharper  where  the  flesh  is 
more  quick,  he  continues  :  "A  little  hurt  in 
the  eye  giveth  more  pain  than  a  great  one  in 
the  heelj  for  the  flesh  is  less  quick  there  ; "  ' 
and  concludes  the  matter  of  touch  thus  : 
"  Thus  was  Jesus  Christ,  the  Almighty  God, 
sorely  pained  in  all  His  five  senses,  and  par- 
ticularly in  the  last,  that  is  feeling.  For  His 
flesh  was  all  as  quick  as  the  tender  eyes  ;  and 
you  guard  this  sense,  that  is  bodily  feeling, 
more  carefully  than  all  the  other  senses. 
God's  hands  were  nailed  to  the  Cross.  By 
those  nails,  I  entreat  you  anchoresses — not 
you  but  others,  for  there  is  no  need,  my 
dear  sisters — keep  your  hands  within  your 
windows."  2 

As  a  general  counsel  to  those  who  fancy 
that  they  have  their  senses  well  under  control, 
this  scrap  of  penetrating  observation,  endorsed 
by  time-long  experience,  may  not  come  amiss  : 
"  Many  a  man  thinketh  that  he  doeth  that  well 
which  he  doeth  very  ill."  3 

This  disquisition  in  the  Ancren  Riwle  on  the 
senses  is,  so  far  as  I  know,  the  most  complete 
to  be  found  in  Middle  English,  though  no 
mystical  writer  of  the  time  omits  them  alto- 
gether. At  less  length  than  the  author  of  the 
Riwle,  but  with  recurring  persistence,  Richard 

'  p.  84.  ^  p.  87.  3  p.  56. 


94  English  Mystics 

Rolle  emphasizes  the  dangers  inherent  in  the 
senses  by  insisting  on  the  importance  of  staying 
away  from  the  haunts  of  men  :  "  Three  man- 
ners of  occupations  there  are  :  as  various  and 
much  brawling,  raking  about,  and  much  caring 
for  earthly  things."  i 

Rolle  condemns  the  second  of  these  as  a 
deliberate  indulgence  of  the  senses:  "those 
who  are  ever  raking  about  to  feed  their  wits." - 

In  the  third  part  of  Our  Uaily  Work^  which 
we  should  remember  was  written,  not  like  The 
Form  of  ^Perfect  Living  for  "  religious,"  but  for 
"  every  man  "  (p.  83),  for  "  every  lover  of 
God"  (p.  157),  he  utters  emphatic  warning 
against  this  roving  and  straying:  "The  men 
who  will  nowhere  rest  but  aye  rake  about  ; 
their  eyes  see  many  things  that  the  eye  sends 
to  the  heart,  and  such  come  not  out  easily 
when  they  are  once  imprinted.  S.  Bernard 
complains  of  the  harms  which  he  felt  in 
the  world  while  he  was  therein,  and  says 
*the  world  surrounded  me  and  weighed  me 
down.       3 

Some  critics  over-insist  on  the  debt  which 
English  mystics  owe  to  men  of  other  nations, 
S.  Bernard,  Hugh  of  S.  Victor,  and  the  rest. 
This  passage  is  an  excellent  instance  of  the 
racial  savour  of  our  mysticism,  the  quotation 

'  Our-  Daily  Work,  p.  96    of  The  Form  of  Perfect  Living, 
rendered  into  modern  English  hj  Geraldine  E.  Hodgson. 
'  ibid.,  p.  97.  3  ibid.,  p.  157. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       95 

from  S.  Bernard  being  but  a  peg  on  which 
Rolle  will  hang  his  so  English  and  humorous 
view  :  "  S.  Bernard  says  .  .  .  '  The  world 
surrounded  me  and  weighed  me  down,'  that  is, 
The  world  has  besieged  me  on  every  side  ; 
and  through  the  gates  of  my  five  wits  it  shot 
at  and  wounded  me  full  sore  ;  and  through  the 
wounds  death  presses  in  to  slay  my  sorry  soul. 
Mine  eyes  look,  my  thought  changes  and 
kindles  me  in  sin.  Mine  ears  hear  and  my 
heart  bows  me  thereto.  I  smell  with  nose  and 
it  pleases  my  thoughts.  With  my  mouth 
1  speak,  and  in  my  speech  I  please  or  beguile 
others  ;  and,  with  a  little  over-soft  feeling,  lust 
kindles  in  my  flesh,  and  the  fiend,  my  foe, 
whom  I  cannot  see,  stands  ever  against  me 
with  his  bow  bent."  ^ 

That  is  not  S.  Bernard's  mode  of  thought, 
nor  the  product  of  any  Latin  mind  ;  it  springs 
out  of  Rolle's  own  experience  ;  it  is  English 
in  its  grim  humour,  in  its  direct  simplicity, 
English  down  to  the  devil's  weapon,  which  to 
a  man  of  Rolle's  day  must  be  an  ashen  bow. 

The  danger  lurking  in  our  "  five  wits  "  is 
perpetually  present  to  his  mind  :  "  When 
thou  hast  gathered  home  the  heart  and  its  wits, 
and  hast  destroyed  the  things  which  might 
hinder  thee  from  praying,  and  won  to  that 
devotion   which   God  sends    to  thee,   through 

'  ibid.,  p.  158. 


96  English  Mystics 

His  dear-worthy  grace,  quickly  rise  from  thy 
bed  at  the  bell-ringing."  ^  Again  :  "  After 
meat,  be  thou  worthy  and  keep  thee  from 
much  speech  and  idle  games,  and  hold  thy 
wits  inward,  in  fear  of  God."  - 

The  stumbling-blocks  which  these  "  five 
wits "  put  in  the  path  of  the  spiritual  life 
Rolle  dwells  on  with  a  self-revealing  sigh, 
which  steals  down  the  intervening  years  : 
"  Cleanness  of  heart  three  things  keep  :  one 
is  watchful  thought  and  stable  about  God. 
Another  is  care  to  keep  thy  five  wits,  so  that 
all  the  wicked  stirrings  of  them  be  closed  out 
of  the  flesh.  The  third,  honest  and  profitable 
occupation."  3  And  yet  once  again  :  "Many 
things  hinder  thee  in  toiling  to  pray  :  weari- 
ness of  limbs  ;  men  thou  meetest  who  speak  to 
thee  ;  then,  thy  five  wits  fleet  out  of  ward,  and 
then  the  devotion  of  him  who  prays  cools."  4 

Space  will  not  allow  of  quotations  about  the 
senses  from  all  our  mystics,  but  the  anonymous 
author  of  The  Cloud  of  Unkno'iving  should  not, 
I  think,  be  omitted.  In  his  forty-eighth 
chapter  he  deals  with  the  problem  how  God 
will  be  served  both  with  body  and  soul,  and 
with  his  customary  urbanity  he  handles  the 
senses  less  severely  than  Rolle  ;  thus,  he  writes 
of  "  those  sounds  and  those  sweetnesses  that 

'  ibid.,  p.  1 16.  ^^  p.  144. 

3  The  Form  of  Perfect  L  tying,  p.  36. 
t  Our  Daily  IVork,  p.  161. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       97 

come  in  by  the  windows  of  thy  wits,  the  which 
may  be  both  good  and  evil."  ^  Though  he 
insists  that  "  all  bodily  thing  is  subject  unto 
ghostly  thing,"  -  yet  by  a  lively  image  he  shows 
how  "  Brother  Ass  "  may  not  only  serve  but, 
as  it  were,  strike  the  right  visible  attitude 
for  the  invisible  soul,  a  point  of  view  which 
rather  suggests  the  humanity  of  S.  Francis 
than  the  austerer  standpoint  of  fourteenth- 
century  England  in  this  matter  :  "  What 
time  that  a  soul  disposeth  him  effectually 
to  this  work,  then  as  fast  suddenly,  unwitting 
himself  that  worketh,  the  body  that  perad- 
venture  before  ere  he  began  was  somewhat 
bent  downwards,  on  one  side  or  on  other  for 
ease  of  the  flesh,  shall  set  it "  (i.e.  itself) 
"upright:  following  in  manner  and  in  like- 
ness bodily  the  work  of  the  spirit  that  is 
made  ghostly.  And  thus  it  is  most  seemly 
to  be."  3 

It  is  worth  noting,  as  the  view  is  somewhat 
unusual,  that  this  writer  regards  sensuality 
as  rooted  in  something  deeper  than  the  bodily 
senses  :  "  Sensuality  is  a  power  of  our  soul, 
recking  and  reigning  in  the  bodily  wits,  through 
the  which  we  have  bodily  knowing  and  feeling 
of  all  bodily  creatures,  whether  they  be  pleas- 
ing  or  unpleasing  ; "  4  a  passage,  one  would 

^  The  Cloud  of  JJnknoviing,  edited  by  Evelyn  Underbill, 
p.  227. 

^  ibid.,  p.  270.  3  p.  270.  t  p.  282. 

H 


98  English  Mystics 

suppose,  calculated  to  startle  the  modern  sensa- 
tionist  school. 

His  too  is  the  delightful  passage,  one 
of  the  quaintest  to  be  found  in  English, 
about  the  possibility  of  diabolical  deception  : 
"  Some  of  these  men  the  devil  will  deceive 
full  wonderfully.  For  he  will  send  a  manner 
of  dew,  angels'  food  they  ween  it  to  be,  as  it 
were  coming  out  of  the  air,  and  softly  and 
sweetly  falling  in  their  mouths,  and  therefore 
they  have  it  in  custom  to  sit  gaping  as  they 
would  catch  flies.  .  .  .  Ofttimes  the  devil 
feigneth  quaint  sounds  in  their  ears,  quaint 
lights  and  shining  in  their  eyes,  and  wonderful 
smells  in  their  noses  :  but  all  is  but  falsehood."^ 

Walter  Hilton  takes  a  middle  line  between 
the  severity  of  the  Ancren  Riwle  and  Rolle  and 
the  tolerant  humour  of  the  author  of  ^he 
Cloud  of  IJnhnowing.  Writing  rather  compre- 
hensively and  vaguely  of  "  any  other  thing 
that  may  be  felt  by  bodily  sense,"  Hilton 
declares  that  all  such  manner  of  feeling  may 
be  good,  wrought  by  a  good  angel,  and  they 
may  be  deceivable,  wrought  by  a  wicked  angel, 
when  he  transfigureth  himself  into  an  angel  of 
light.''  2  But  he  strikes  a  fresh  note,  not 
sounded  by  the  author  of  The  Qloud  of  Un- 
knowing, when  he  quickly  adds,  "  Wherefore, 

'   ibid.,  p.  255, 

2   T^e  Scale  of  Perfection,  Blc.  I,  pt.  i,  ch.  x. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages       99 

since   they   may    be    both    good    and    evil,    it 
appeareth  they  are  not  the  best."  ^ 

Though  he  thus  stands  in  the  middle  way, 
occasionally  he  inclines  towards  the  sterner 
view  of  RoUe  and  those  who  dread  the  senses' 
dangerousness  :  "  The  prophet  saith  '  Death 
cometh  in  by  our  windows.'  2  These  are  the 
five  senses  by  which  thy  soul  goeth  out  of 
herself,  also  fetcheth  her  delight  and  seeketh 
her  feeding  in  earthly  things,  contrary  to  the 
nobility  of  her  own  nature."  3  Then  by 
a  quaint  exposition  of  the  Parable  of  the 
Great  Supper  Hilton  explains  "  when  the 
use  of  thy  senses  be  deadly  sin  and  when 
venial.  Thus,  therefore,  our  Lord  saith  in 
the  Gospel  :  eA  man  made  a  great  supper^  and 
called  many  thereto^  and  sent  his  servant  at  supper 
time  after  them  that  vnere  bidden.  The  first 
excused  himself  and  said  on  this  vpise,  that  he 
could  not  come  J  for  he  had  bought  a  farm.  The 
other  also  excused  himself  that  he  could  not  come 
for  he  had  bought  five  yoke  of  oxen ^  and  went  to 
try  them.  The  third  for  that  he  had  married 
a  mfe.  I  forbear  to  speak  of  the  first  and  of 
the  last,  but  will  tell  you  of  the  middlemost  of 
them^  that  had  bought  the  oxen,  for  he  is  to 
our  purpose.     Five  yoke  of  oxen  betoken  the 

'  ibid. 

*  "  Quia  ajcendit  mors  per  fenestras  nostras." — Jer. 
ix.  21. 

3  The  Scale  of  Perfection,  Bk.  I,  pt.  iii,  ch.  ix. 


lOO  English  Mystics 

five  senses,  which  are  beastly  ^  as  an  ox. 
Now,  this  man  that  was  called  to  the  supper 
was  not  rejected  because  he  bought  the  oxen, 
but  because  he  went  to  try  them,  and  so  he 
would  not  come.  Right  so  I  say  to  thee  ;  for 
to  have  thy  senses,  and  to  use  them  in  need, 
it  is  no  sin  ;  but  if  thou  go  voluntarily  to  try 
them  by  vain  delights  in  creatures,  then  it  is 

SUl.      2 

This  may  not  be  quite  authority's  exegesis, 
but  it  shows,  with  nice  precision,  Hilton's 
attitude  to  the  senses. 

The  view  of  Margery  Kempe  of  Lynn  again 
differs  slightly  from  the  others.  She  confesses 
that  she  had  a  struggle  to  conquer  the  natural 
impulses  of  sense  :  "  Our  merciful  Lord  Jesu 
Christ  drew  this  creature  unto  His  love,  and 
to  the  mind  of  His  passion,  that  she  might  not 
endure  to  behold  a  leper,  or  another  sick  man, 
specially  if  he  had  any  wounds  appearing  on 
him.  So  she  wept  as  if  she  had  seen  our 
Lord  Jesu  with  His  wounds  bleeding  ;  and  so 
she  did  in  the  sight  of  the  soul  ;  for  through 
the  beholding  of  the  sick  man,  her  mind  was 
all  ravished  in  to  our  Lord  Jesu,  that  she  had 
great  mourning  and  sorrowing  that  she  might 
not  kiss  the  leper  when  she  met  them  in  the 
way,  for  the  love  of  our  Lord  which  was  all 
contrary  to  her  disposition  in  the  years  of  her 

'  Used  in  the  word's  primary  sense,  of  animal  nature. 
^  The  Scale  ofTerfection,  Bk.  I,  pt.  iii,  ch.  ix. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages      loi 

youth  and  prosperity,   for  then  she  abhorred 
them  most."  ^ 

Her  peculiar  contribution  to  this  question 
of  the  senses  is  her  recognition  that  they, 
whether  in  themselves  good  or  bad,  are  only 
in  the  outer  court  of  mystical  life,  and  her 
insistence  that  the  real  battle-ground  is  in 
the  soul,  that  the  real  enemy  is  not  the 
senses  but  the  will.  Naturally,  then,  she 
concentrates  on  the  inner  state  :  "  Daughter, 
if  thou  wear  the  habergeon  or  the  hair, 
fasting  bread  and  water,  and  if  thou  saidest 
every  day  a  thousand  Pater  Nosters,  thou 
shalt  not  please  Me  so  well  as  thou  dost 
when  thou  art  in  silence,  and  sufFrest  Me 
to  speak  in  thy  soul. 

"  Daughter,  for  to  bid  many  beads,  it  is 
good  to  them  that  can  no  better  do,  and  yet  it 
is  not  perfect.  But  it  is  a  good  way  towards 
perfection.  For,  I  tell  thee,  daughter,  they 
that  be  great  fasters,  and  great  doers  of 
penance,  they  would  that  it  should  be  holden 
the  best  life.  And  they  that  give  them  unto 
many  devotions,  they  would  have  that  the 
best  life.  And  those  that  give  much  almesse, 
they  would  that  it  were  holden  the  best  life. 
And  1  have  often  told  thee,  daughter,  that 
thinking  and  weeping  and  high  contempla- 
tion is  the  best  life  on  earth,  and  thou  shalt 

'■  Short  Treatise  of  Contemplation,  modernized  in  The  Cell 
of  Self- KnoTf  ledge,  edited  by  Edmund  Gardner,  p.  55. 


I02  English  Mystics 

have  more  merit  in  heaven  for  one  year 
thinking  in  thy  mind  than  for  an  hundred 
year  of  praying  with  thy  mouth,  and  yet  thou 
wilt  not  believe  Me,  for  thou  wilt  bid  many 
beads."  ^ 

Trite  and  old  as  the  fact  is,  we  are  reminded 
in  this  passnge  how  self-love  and  the  spirit  of 
envious  competition  can  dwell  in  dedicated 
hearts,  and  spoil  the  holiest  acts  ;  and  we  may 
well  recall  that  passage  in  S.  Teresa's  Relation 
of  Favours  accorded  to  her  at  Toledo  during 
the  year  1576  :  "Once  when  I  was  grieving 
over  being  obliged  to  eat  meat,  and  do  no 
penance,  I  heard  it  said  that  sometimes  there 
was  more  of  self-love  than  desire  of  penance  in 
such  sorrow."  2 

From  these  various  discourses  on  the  danger, 
and  the  necessary  training  of  the  senses,  one 
clear  fact  emerges,  that  while  we  linger  in  the 
region  of  sense,  we  are  only  standing  on  the 
threshold  of  mystical  life  proper.  All  this 
careful  instruction  is  required  ;  but,  when  all 
is  said  and  done,  it  deals  only  with  the  instru- 
ments and  methods  which  are  required  to  clear 
the  ground  for  that  first  hard  step  on  the 
Mystical  Way,  Purgation. 

All  the  same,  since,  alike  to  the  "  religious  " 
and  to  those  whose  life  must  be  spent  in  the 
world,  body    and   soul    are    indissolubly   knit 

'  ibid.,  pp.  52-3. 

^  Letters  o/S.  Teresa,  vol.  ii,  p.  92  (Benedictine  Edition). 


English  Mystics  of  the  Middle  Ages      103 

together  in  time,  the  weakness  of  the  former, 
its  liability  with  many  of  us  to  disabling  pain, 
its  temptations,  its  cowardice,  its  lapses  must 
always  remain  as  an  only  too  possible  and 
recurring  danger.  There  is  a  sense,  as 
Margery  Kempe  holds,  in  which  bodily  facul- 
ties belong  to  the  outer  court,  but  their 
capacity,  even  after  years  of  restraint  and 
discipline,  to  spring  into  life  again  is  only 
too  terribly  real ;  moreover,  the  subtler  their 
power  the  more  likelihood  is  there  that 
through  the  long  stages  of  purgation  the 
struggle  against  them  will  be  incessant.  So 
true  is  this,  that  no  one  can  be  surprised  if 
Rolle  and  the  author  of  the  tAncren  Riwle 
regard  them  as  a  vital  part  of  all  that  which 
must  be  purged  clean  away. 


CHAPTER   111 
The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages 

ROLLE  is  not  only  the  most  prolific, 
but,  on  the  whole,  the  most  com- 
prehensive of  that  little  group  of 
mystics  who  adorned  the  English  sfourteenth 
century  ;  in  his  works  we  have  not  only  the 
first  systematic  but  the  most  complete  pre- 
sentment of  mystical  life  in  the  English 
tongue. 

In  the  Library  of  Lincoln  Cathedral  there 
still  remains  the  Latin  Office  of  S.  Richard  the 
Hermit,  to  be  used  in  public  when  he  shall 
have  been  canonized  by  the  Church.  This 
document  sets  forth  that  he  was  born  at 
Thornton,  in  Yorkshire,  was  sent  to  Oxford 
by  Thomas  Neville,  then  Archdeacon  of 
Durham,  whence  being  already,  in  his  nine- 
teenth year,  obsessed  by  the  uncertainty  of 
this  mortal  life,  and  burdened  with  the  miser- 
able and  undeniable  reality  of  sin,  he  returned 
home.  Begging  of  his  sister  a  white  and  a 
grey  garment,  he  added  thereto  his  father's  old 
rain-hood,  fashioning  from  these  unpromising 
materials  the  best  habit  he  could. 

Clothed  so,  he  wandered,  on   the  Vigil  of 
104 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages      105 

the  Assumption,  into  a  church,  possibly 
Topcliffe,  near  Ripon.  On  the  Feast  he 
assisted  at  Mass,  and,  with  the  parish  priest's 
permission,  went  into  the  pulpit  to  preach 
the  sermon,  which  discourse  reduced  the 
"  multitude  of  his  hearers  "  to  a  compunction 
which  showed  itself  in  unrestrainable  tears. 

A  little  later  on  Sir  John  Dalton,  to  whose 
notice  the  young  man  had  been  brought,  pro- 
vided him  with  a  suitable  habit,  a  cell,  and 
meagre  maintenance.  So  great  was  his  devo- 
tional absorption  that  men  could  remove, 
mend,  and  put  on  him  again  his  ragged  habit, 
while  he  remained  unaware  alike  of  them 
and  of  their  doings.  He  became  a  roving- 
hermit,  and  in  his  journeys  made  acquaintance 
with  the  anchoress.  Dame  Margaret  Kirkby, 
whose  cell  was  at  Anderby,  near  Richmond, 
in  Yorkshire.  By  his  ministrations  he  healed 
her  of  physical  disease.  A  spiritual  friendship 
ensued,  in  which,  possibly,  she  was  the  greater 
benefactor,  by  soothing  his  intense  over- 
sensitiveness,  which  often  caused  him  bitter 
suffering  at  the  hands  of  an  obtuse  unillumined 
world.  Years  after,  by  the  return  of  her 
disease,  Margaret  inferred  truly  that,  unknown 
to  her  as  the  fact  was,  Richard  had  died. 

The  longest  of  Rolle's  writings  are  I'he 
Mending  of  Life  ;  The  Fire  of  L.o')>e  ;  The  Form 
of  Perfect  Living  ;  and  Our  Daily  Work.  In 
the    first  of   these   he  sets  forth  the  doctrine 


io6  English  Mystics 

of  Purgation.  Some  one  may  ask  What  first 
set  him  on  this  track  ? — since  no  one  sets  out 
in  ')>acuo  on  any  quest,  some  sufficient  reason 
must  impel  each  one  of  us  to  start.  The 
answer  is,  a  rare  devotion  to  our  Lord. 

In  one  of  his  shorter  prose  works  this 
wonderful  outburst  of  devoted  love  occurs  : 
"  I  cannot  pray  nor  meditate  save  in  sounding 
the  Name  of  Jesus  :  I  savour  not  joy  that  is 
not  mingled  with  Jesus.  Wheresoever  I  be, 
wheresoever  I  sit,  the  remembrance  of  the 
savour  of  Jesus  departs  out  from  my  mind. 
I  have  fixed  my  mind  :  I  have  set  it  as  a  token 
upon  my  arm  :  for  love  is  as  strong  as  death. 
As  death  slays  all,  so  love  overcomes  all. 
Everlasting  love  has  overcome  me,  not  to  slay 
but  to  quicken  me.  But  it  has  wounded  that  it 
may  heal  me.  It  has  pierced  through  my 
heart  that  it  may  be  the  mirthlier  healed.  ^  .  .  . 

'  The  same  view  recurs  in  English  literature  five  and  a 
half  centuries  later  : — 

Naked  I  wait  Thy  love's  uplifted  stroice  ! 
My  harness  piece  by  piece  Thou  hast  hewn  from  me, 
And  smitten  me  to  my  knee  ; 
I  am  defenceless  utterly. 

All  which  I  took  from  thee  I  did  but  take 

Not  for  thy  harms 
But  just  that  thou  mightst  seek  it  in  My  arms. 

All  which  thy  child's  mistake 
Fancies  as  lost,  I  have  stored  for  thee  at  home  ! 

Rise,  clasp  My  hand,  and  come  ! 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     107 

The  Name  of  Jesus  has  taught  me  to  sing, 
and  has  lighted  my  mind  with  the  heat  of 
unmade  ^  light.  Therefore,  I  sit  and  cry. 
Who  shall  show  to  Thee,  beloved  Jesus,  that 
I  languish  for  love  ?  My  flesh  has  failed  and 
my  heart  melts  in  love,  yearning  for  Jesus. 
All  the  heart  fastened  in  yearning  for  Jesus  is 
turned  into  the  fire  of  love,  and  with  the 
sweetness  of  the  Godhead  fully  is  it  filled."  ^ 

The  date  of  this  is  unknown,  but  though  it 
looks  like  the  rapture  of  one  far  on  the  Myst- 
ical Way,  yet  the  germ  of  such  devotion  must 
have  been  the  impelling  force  of  Rolle's  youth. 

As  we  turn  the  pages  of  this  short  eulogy, 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  self-revealing, 
as  it  is,  of  all  Rolle's  voluminous  works,  we 
find,  following  closely  upon  this  lyrical  out- 
pouring of  adoration,  his  recognition  of  the 
absolute  necessity  of  a  previous  purgation  : 
"  I  went  about  by  covetousness  of  wealth  and 
I  found  not  Jesus.  I  ran  by  wantonness  of 
the  flesh  and  I  found  not  Jesus.  1  sat  in 
companies  of  worldly  mirth  and  I  found  not 
Jesus.  In  all  these,  I  sought  Jesus  and  I 
found  Him  not,  for  by  His  grace  He  let  me 
know  that  He  is  not  found  in  the  land  of 
softly  living.     Therefore,  I  turned  by  another 

^  uncreated. 

^  Praise  of  the  D^me  of  Jesus  (Thornton  MS.),  published 
in  Library  of  Early  English  Writers,  edited  by  Horstman, 
vol.  i,  pp.  186,  187. 


io8  English  Mystics 

way  :  and  I  ran  about  by  poverty  and  I  found 
Jesus,  pure-born  into  the  world  and  laid  in 
a  Crib,  and  lapped  in  cloths.  I  went  by 
suffering  of  weariness  and  I  found  Jesus  weary 
in  the  way,  tormented  with  hunger,  thirst,  and 
cold,  filled  with  reproofs  and  blame.  1  sat  by 
myself,  fleeing  from  the  world's  vanities,  and 
I  found  Jesus  fasting  in  the  desert,  lonely  in 
the  mountain  praying.  I  ran  by  the  pain  of 
penance,  and  I  found  Jesus  bound,  scourged, 
given  gall  to  drink,  nailed  to  the  cross,  hanging 
on  the  cross,  and  dying  on  the  cross.  There- 
fore Jesus  is  not  found  in  wealth  but  in  poverty, 
not  in  pleasures  but  in  penance,  not  in  wanton 
enjoyment  but  in  bitter  weeping,  not  among 
the  multitude  but  in  loneliness."  ^ 

Our  English  mystics,  while  bowing  in 
adoration  before  our  Lord's  divinity,  never, 
on  the  opposite  side,  fell  into  the  Apollinarian 
heresy,  which  deprived  Him  of  the  rational 
human  spirit — "  the  seat  of  self-consciousness 
and  self-determination."  -  The  fourteenth 
century  showed  no  inclination  to  minimize 
our  Lord's  human  sufferings — hunger,  thirst, 
the  pain  of  undeserved  blame,  loneliness,  and 
the  dolour  of  wounds.  This  same  Thornton 
MS.  contains  a  translation  which  some  have 
ascribed  to  Rolle,  of  the  Seraphic  Doctor's 
Meditations  on  the  Life  of  Christ.     In  that  for 

'  Praise  of  the  CN^me  of  Jesus,  op.  cit.,  p.  190. 
^  Catholic  Encycloj)aediaf\o\.  i,  p.  615. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     109 

None,  on  the  Seven  Words  from  the  Cross, 
S.  Bonaventura  dwells  emphatically  on  the 
reality  of  our  Lord's  suffering  in  His  human- 
ity :  "  /  thirst :  He  thirsted  bodily  and  that 
was  no  wonder,  for  through  shedding  of  His 
precious  blood  so  abundantly  :  and  for  the 
great  anguish  which  He  suffered  without 
ceasing  from  the  Thursday  at  even  to  the 
Friday  at  high  noon.  He  was  all  inwardly 
dry  and  thirsty." 

In  The  Mending  of  Life  Rolle  urges  the 
necessity  of  detachment  from  all  worldly  sur- 
roundings, of  voluntary  purgation  as  the 
necessary  first  step,  though  the  passage  I  have 
quoted  above  throbs  with  a  passion  of  ecstatic 
love  hardly  to  be  found  in  The  Mending  : 
"  Truly,  he  that  desires  to  love  Christ  truly, 
not  only  without  heaviness,  but  with  a  joy 
unmeasured,  he  casts  away  all  things  that  may 
let  him.  And  in  this  case  he  spares  neither 
father  nor  mother  nor  himself ;  he  receives 
no  man's  cheer  ;  he  does  violence  to  all  his 
hinderers,  and  he  breaks  through  all  obstacles. 
Whatsoever  he  can  do  seems  little  to  him  so 
that  he  may  love  God."  ^ 

Again  he  writes  :  "  Take  heed  also  ;  to  seek 
more  than  enough  is  foul  covetousness  ;  to 
keep  back  necessaries  is  frailty,  but  to  forsake 
all  things  is  perfectness."  2 

'  The  5\i  en  ding  of  Life,  ch.  i.  -  ibid.,  ch.  iii. 


no  English  Mystics 

Now  detachment  is  not  a  cause  but  an  effect. 
Rolle,  while  never  denying  the  danger  which 
lurks  in  the  senses,  puts  his  finger  on  the  very 
core  of  the  process  called  purgation,  viz.  on 
the  will.  "  There  are  three  sins,  or  three 
kinds  of  sin  ;  that  is  to  say  of  thought,  of 
mouth,  and  of  work,"  i  "  Truly,"  so  he  warns 
us,  "  abstinence,  by  itself,  is  not  holiness." 
Then  he  sums  up  this  business  of  purging,  not 
the  external  manifestation,  but  the  inner  spring 
of  daily  life  and  conduct  :  "  If  thou  be  a  pil- 
grim and  rest  by  the  way,  whatever  thou  dost 
in  this  life,  to  God  have  an  eye.  Let  not  thy 
thoughts  go  from  Him  ;  think  that  time  lost 
in  which  thou  thinkest  not  of  God.  .  .  .  See 
that  thou  flow  not  with  vain  thoughts,  nor  give 
thyself  to  superfluous  cares,  but  stud"  to  get 
and  hold  the  steadfastness  of  mind  so  that 
thou  dread  not  the  wretchedness  of  this  world, 
nor  desire  the  goods  thereof  unmannerly. 
He  that  dreads  to  suffer  adversity  knows  not 
yet  how  it  behoves  us  to  despise  the  world  ; 
and  he  that  joys  in  earthly  things  is  far  from 
everlasting  things."  2 

*'  Study  to  get  and  hold  the  steadfastness 
of  mind."  We  can  scarcely  fail  to  recall  those 
wonderful  words  of  Sir  Thomas  Browne  : 
"  Therefore,  while  so  many  think  it  the  only 
valour  to  command  and  master  others,  study 

'  ibid.,  ch.  iv.  ^  ch.  iv. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     1 1 1 

thou  the  dominion  of  thyself  and  quiet  thine 
own  commotions." 

A  subdued  will  and  clean  thoughts  RoUe 
absolutely  demands  as  one  essential  outcome 
of  purgation  :  "  Abraham,  when  he  made 
a  sacrifice  to  God,  fowls  of  the  air  lighted 
thereon,  and  would  have  defiled  it  ;  and  he 
cleared  those  birds  away,  so  that  none  durst 
come  nigh  it,  till  all  the  time  were  passed,  and 
the  sacrifice  made.  Let  us  do  so  with  these 
flying  thoughts,  which  defile  the  sacrifice  or 
our  prayers.  This  sacrifice  is  agreeable  to 
God  when  it  comes  from  a  clean  and  loving 
heart."  ^ 

Similar  insistence  on  the  fact  that  purgation 
is,  and  in  the  last  resort  must  be,  inward,  though 
external  means  are  "  helply  to  get  this,"  is  to 
be  found  in  The  Epistle  of  Prayer^  generally  attri- 
buted to  the  author  of  The  Cloud  of  Unknomng  : 
"  And  ofttimes,  unknowing  maketh  men  to 
charge  more  and  commend  more  bodily  exer- 
cise (as  is  fasting,  waking,  sharp-wearing  and 
all  these  others)  than  they  do  ghostly  exercise 
in  virtues  and  in  this  reverent  affection  touched 
before."  2 

The  attitude  of  the  utterly  surrendered  will 
is  shown  clearly  in  a  later  passage  :  "  Chaste 
love  is  that  when  thou  askest  of  God  neither 

^  Our  Daily  Work. 

^  T:he  Epistle  of  Prayer  (published  in  The  Cell  oj  SelJ- 
Knowledge),  p.  82. 


112  English  Mystics 

releasing  of  pain,  nor  increasing  of  meed,  nor 
yet  sweetness  in  His  love  in  this  life,  but  if  it 
be  any  certain  time  that  thou  covetest  sweet- 
ness as  for  a  refreshing  of  thy  ghostly  mights, 
that  they  fail  not  in  the  way  :  but  thou  askest 
of  God  naught  but  Himself,  and  neither  thou 
reckest  nor  lookest  after  whether  thou  shalt  be 
in  pain  or  in  bliss,  so  that  thou  have  Him  that 
thou  lovest — this  is  chaste  love,  this  is  perfect 
love."  ^ 

Some  people  seem  to  imagine  that  mysticism 
is  nothing  but  a  drifting  along  on  a  suave 
current  of  pleasant  emotionalism  ;  others 
gauge  their  religious  state  by  their  "  feelings." 
But  one  and  all  the  great  mystics,  in  this 
phrase  or  that,  whatever  their  race  or  their 
era,  insist  on  the  truth  that  love  which  has 
surrendered  its  will  recks  not  of  pain  or  bliss. 
S.  Teresa,  many  generations  later,  was  as 
emphatic  on  this  point  as  the  writer  of  The 
Epistle  of  Prayer  :  "  We  set  so  high  a  price  on 
our  heart  !  We  are  so  slow  to  give  God  the 
absolute  gift  of  our  own  self.  .  .  .  Let  every- 
one realize  that  real  love  of  God  does  not 
consist  in  tear-shedding,  nor  in  that  sweetness 
and  tenderness  for  which  usually  we  long,  just 
because  they  console  us,  but  in  serving  God  in 
justice,  fortitude  of  soul,  and  humility."  2 

These  words  were  written  by  a  woman  who 

'  ibid.,  p.  86.  ^  S.  Teresa's  Autobiograph'),  ch.  xi. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     1 1 3 

had  counted  the  cost,  and  who  never  exag- 
gerated. 

Undoubtedly  Rolle  suffered  great  trials  in 
the  Purgative  Way  :  "  When  the  fiend  sees 
one  man  out  of  thousands  perfectly  turned 
to  God,  following  the  steps  of  Christ,  despis- 
ing tliis  present  world  ;  loving  and  seeking 
only  the  things  unseen  ;  taking  perfect  penance  ; 
and  purging  himself  from  all  filth  of  mind  and 
body  ;  he  reparels  ^  a  thousand  beguilings  of 
annoyance  and  a  thousand  crafts  of  fighting 
to  cast  him  from  the  love  of  God  to  the  love 
of  the  world,  and  to  fill  him  again  with  the 
filth  of  sin." 

It  is  hard  to  believe  that  this  passage  did  not 
spring  out  of  frequent  personal  experience. 
We  must  remember  that  it  is  only  of  late 
years  that  the  study,  apart  from  the  practice, 
of  mysticism  has  grown  to  be  an  important 
matter.  Though  Walter  Hilton  hinted  that 
he  personally  wrote  of  it  rather  as  a  spectator 
than  an  actor,  that  attitude  was  uncommon  in 
the  fourteenth  century.  On  the  contrary,  to- 
day not  a  few  people  write  about  it  ;  but  always 
a  difference  is  discernible  between  those  whose 
knowledge  is  immediate  and  those  who  write 
of  it  because,  for  one  reason  or  another,  they 
have  come  to  take  interest  in  it. 

Rolle  did   not   leave    his  difficulties  to    be 


'   i.e.  contrives.      Tlie  [Mending  of  Life,  ch.  v. 

I 


114  English  Mystics 

a  question  of  speculation  or  inference.  In  The 
Fire  of  Lo)>e  he  lets  us  into  the  secret  of  one 
of  his  sorest  temptations,  one  natural,  indeed 
inevitable,  to  so  thin-skinned,  irritable  a  mortal  : 
"  This  have  I  known,  that  the  more  men  have 
raved  against  me  with  words  of  backbiting,  so 
mickle  the  more  I  have  grown  in  ghostly  profit. 
Forsooth,  the  worst  backbiters  I  have  had  are 
those  which  I  trusted  before  as  faithful  friends. 
Yet  I  ceased  not  for  their  words  from  those 
things  that  were  profitable  to  my  soul  ;  truly 
I  used  more  study,  and  ever  I  found  God 
favourable.  I  called  to  mind  what  was 
written,  Maledicent  illi  el  tu  benedicas,  that  is 
to  say,  '  They  shall  curse  him,  and  Thou 
shalt  bless.'  And  in  process  of  time  great 
profit  in  ghostly  joy  was  given  me."^ 

Not  the  least  part  of  RoUe's  vivid  charm 
arose  out  of  this  quality  which  brought  him 
such  sharp,  recurring  pain ;  for  his  sensitive 
and  quick  response  of  body  and  soul  to 
his  surroundings,  which  necessarily  forced 
him  to  suffer  through  the  various  untoward 
manners  and  doings  of  some  of  his  neigh- 
bours, was  equally  lively  and  swift  in  the 
case  of  pleasanter  people.  Yet  with  all 
his  reiterated  insistence  on  the  necessity 
for  purgation,  and  his  manifold  efforts  to 
achieve     it,    Rolle    was    not    deceived.      The 

'    The  Fire  of  Love,  ch.  xiv. 


The  Mystic  IVay  in  the  Middle  Ages     115 

danger  of  falling  back  again  was  ever  before 
his  eyes.  He  enumerates  the  "nine  degrees  " 
of  turning  to  God,  viz.  conversion,  despising 
the  world,  embracing  poverty,  right  direction 
of  life,  enduring  tribulation,  patience,  prayer, 
meditation,  and  good  reading  ;  and  then  he 
explains  that  "  By  these  nine  degrees  .  .  . 
man  comes  to  cleanness  of  mind  where  God 
is  seen. I  Cleanness,  I  say,  that  may  be  had 
in  this  life."  - 

Then  follows  the  warning  :  "  Who  may  truly 
say,  '  I  am  clean  from  sin  '  .'*  Truly  none  in 
this  life.  .  .  .  What  cleanness,  therefore,  can 
man  have  in  this  life  }  Truly  worthy  and  great 
if  he  rightly  use  himself  in  the  study  of  reading, 
prayer,  and  meditation.  .  .  .  The  virtue,  there- 
fore, of  a  cleaned  soul  is  to  have  the  mind  busy 
to  God,  for  in  this  degree  all  the  thought  is 
dressed  to  Christ  :  all  the  mind,  although  he 
seems  to  speak  to  others,  is  spread  unto  Him. 
Truly,  in  a  clean  conscience  nothing  is  bitter, 
sharp,  or  hard,  but  all  is  sweet  and  lovely. 
Out  of  cleanness  of  heart  rises  a  song  of  joy, 
sweet  ditty  and  joyful  mirth.  ...  I  spare  to 
say  more  here,  for  I  seem  to  myself  a  full 
great  wretch.  For  oft  my  flesh  is  noyed  and 
assayed." 3 

Well  might  S.  John  of  the  Cross  call  such 

'  "  Beati  mundo  corde,  quoniam  ipsi  Deum  videbunt." — 
^.Matt.  V.  8. 

=  The  Mending  of  Life,  ch.  x.  ^   ibid. 


1 1 6  English  Mystics 

perpetual  uncertain  strife  "  this  arid  purga- 
tion "  ;  though  the  actual  phrase  does  not  slip 
off  Rolle's  pen,  the  fact  it  covers  was  always 
with  him. 

No  one,  surely,  could  read  this  frank  con- 
fession without  sympathy  for  so  intense  and 
sincere  a  sense  of  unworthiness.  Only  the 
hypersensitively  irritable  can  wholly  realize 
the  temperamental  obstacles  which  beset  a 
man  of  Rolle's  nature,  anxious  as  he  was, 
all  the  while,  to  give  no  occasion  of  scandal, 
or  can  understand  what  temptation  to  despair 
lurks  at  times  in  such  a  temper  ;  for,  after  all, 
to  feel  purgation  hard  and  arid  is  to  prove 
its  incomplete  consummation,  its  verging  on 
failure,  as  Walter  Hilton  hints  plainly  enough  : 
"  Many  a  man  hath  the  virtues  of  humility, 
patience,  and  charity  to  his  neighbours,  and 
such  other  only  in  his  reason  and  will,  and 
hath  no  spiritual  delight,  nor  love  in  them  ; 
for  ofttimes  he  feeleth  grudging  heaviness  and 
bitterness  for  to  do  them,  and  yet  nevertheless 
he  doth  them,  but  'tis  only  by  stirring  of 
reason  for  dread  of  God.  This  man  hath 
these  virtues  in  reason  and  will,  but  not  the 
love  of  them  in  affection.  But  when  by  the 
grace  of  Jesus  and  by  ghostly  and  bodily 
exercise  reason  is  turned  into  light  and  will 
into  love,  then  hath  he  virtues  in  affection  ; 
for  he  hath  so  well  gnawn  on  the  bitter  bark 
or   shell   of  the   nut  that    at  length    he    hath 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     1 1 7 

broken  it  and  now  feeds  on  the  kernel  ;  that 
is  to  say,  the  virtues  which  were  first  heavy 
for  to  practise  are  now  turned  into  a  very 
delight  and  savour."  ^  Perhaps  the  difference 
between  the  dull  doing  of  duty  in  those  dour 
hours  of  suffering  when  a  man  can  only  just 
keep  hold  on  the  very  tail  of  his  patience,  and 
the  serene  acceptance  of  pain  by  the  mystically 
purged,  has  never  been  more  beautifully  ex- 
pressed :  "  reason  is  turned  into  light  and 
will  into  love." 

And  so  we  learn  once  more  that  the  atmo- 
sphere of  mystical  life  is  love.  Yet  the  end 
of  the  matter  is  not  here.  Love  is  not  only 
the  atmosphere,  but  an  actual  instrument  of 
knowledge  :  "  All  reasonable  creatures,  angels 
and  man,  have  in  them,  each  one  by  himself, 
one  principal  working  power,  the  which  is 
called  a  knowledgeable  power,  and  another 
principal  working  power,  the  which  is  called 
a  loving  power.  Of  the  which  two  powers, 
to  the  first,  the  which  is  a  knowledgeable 
power,  God,  that  is  the  maker  of  them, 
is  evermore  incomprehensible  ;  and  to  the 
second,  which  is  the  loving  power,  in  each 
one  diversely.  He  is  all  comprehensible  to 
the  full."  2 

This  fact,  thus  succinctly  stated  by  an  un- 
known writer,  is  common  property  of  all  the 

'   The  Scale  ofTerfection,  Bk.  I,  pt.  i,  ch.  xiii. 
^  The  Cloud  of  Unknomng,  ch.  iv. 


1 1 8  English  Mystics 

mystics  ;  in  it  lay  Rolle's  salvation,  his  way 
of  hope.  He  might  be  and  was  irritably 
sensitive ;  the  faint  rumour  of  his  strained 
relations  with  not  a  few  of  his  fellows  sounds 
through  the  years  and  will  ever  murmur 
about  his  name,  but  he  could  and  did  love — 
"  who  loved  well  because  he  hated.  Hated 
wickedness  that  hinders  loving,"  perhaps. 

Sometimes  men  speak  and  write  as  if  Pur- 
gation were,  in  some  sort,  less  beautiful  and 
holy  than  Illumination  and  Union,  whereas 
the  idea  of  comparison  between  them  is  wholly 
out  of  place.  Without  the  first,  the  other 
two  are  impossible,  and  all  alike  can  only 
exist  in  an  atmosphere  of  love.  "  Love  is 
a  perfection  of  learning,"  Rolle  cries,  "  virtue 
of  prophecy,  fruit  of  truth,  help  of  sacraments, 
establishing  of  wit  and  knowledge;  riches  of 
pure  men,  life  of  dying  men.  So,  how  good 
love  is.  .  .  .  If  thou  wilt  ask  how  good  is  he 
or  she  } — ask  how  much  he  or  she  loves,  and 
that  no  man  can  tell.  For  I  hold  it  folly  to 
judge  a  man's  heart  ;  that  none  knows  save 
God.  Love  is  a  righteous  turning  from  all 
earthly  things,  and  is  joined  to  God,  and 
kindled  with  the  fire  from  the  Holy  Ghost  ; 
far  from  defilement,  far  from  corruption, 
bound  to  no  vice  of  this  life.  High  above 
all  fleshly  lusts,  aye  ready  and  greedy  for  the 
contemplation  of  God.  In  all  things  not 
overcome.     The   sum  of  all   good   affections. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     1 1 9 

Health  of  good  mannerSj  goal  of  the  com- 
mandments of  God  ;  death  of  sins,  life  of 
virtues.  Virtue  while  fighting  lasts,  crown 
of  overcomers."  ^ 

To  the  unknown  author  of  ^he  Cloud  of 
Unknomng  purgation  consists  in  directing  the 
will  and  fastening  it  on  to  God  alone.  Only 
implicitly  does  he  refer,  in  the  subjoined  pas- 
sage, to  ascetic  cleansing,  the  purging  of  the 
senses  and  the  will  :  "  One  thing  1  tell  thee. 
He  is  a  jealous  lover,  and  suffereth  no  fellow- 
ship, and  Him  list  not  work  in  thy  will,  but 
if  He  be  only  with  thee  by  Himself.  He 
asketh  none  help,  but  only  thyself.  He  wills 
thou  do  but  look  on  Him,  and  let  Him  alone. 
And  keep  thou  the  windows  and  the  door,  for 
flies  and  enemies  assailing."  2 

He  insists  on  man's  total  inability  to  perform 
this  cleansing  work  alone  and  unaided  :  "  It  is 
the  lightest  work  of  all  when  a  soul  is  helped 
with  grace  in  sensible  list,3  and  soonest  done. 
But  else  it  is  hard  and  wonderful  to  thee  to  do. 

"  Let  not,  therefore,  but  travail  therein  till 
thou  full  list.  For  at  the  first  time  when  thou 
dost  it,  thou  findest  but  a  darkness  ;  and  as  it 
were  a  cloud  of  unknowing,  thou  knowest  not 
what,  save  that  thou  feelest  in  thy  will  a  naked 
intent  unto  God.  This  darkness  and  this  cloud 
is,  howsoever  thou  dost,  betwixt  thee  and  thy 

'   The  Form  of  Perfect  Living,  ch.  x. 

^  The  Cloud  of  Unknowing,  ch.  ii.  3  joyous  activity. 


I20  English  Mystics 

God,  and  letteth  thee  that  thou  mayest  neither 
see  Him  clearly  by  light  of  understanding  in 
thy  reason,  nor  feel  Him  in  sweetness  of  love 
in  thine  affection.  And  therefore,  shape  thee 
to  bide  in  this  darkness  as  long  as  thou  mayest, 
evermore  crying  after  Him  that  thou  lovest. 
For  if  ever  thou  shalt  feel  Him  or  see  Him  as 
it  may  be  here,  it  behoveth  always  to  be  in  this 
cloud  of  darkness.  And  if  thou  wilt  busily 
travail  as  I  bid  thee,  I  trust  in  His  mercy 
thou  shalt  come  thereto."  ^ 

Perhaps  no  other  English  author  has  come 
so  near  to  S.  John  of  the  Cross  as  this  unknown 
writer.  The  temperamental  contrast  between 
him  and  Rolle  seems  complete.  To  the  latter 
never  under  any  circumstances  did  purgation 
appear  "the  lightest  work  of  all." 

From  time  to  time,  like  all  the  other  mystics, 
he  insists  on  the  actual  cleansing  of  the  soul  by 
the  accustomed  means  appointed  for  all  alike. 
In  the  twenty-eighth  chapter  of  The  Cloud  oj 
Unknowing  he  urges  that  no  start  in  the  mystical 
lite  can  be  made  by  any  "ere  they  have  cleansed 
their  conscience  of  all  their  special  deeds  of 
sin  done  before,  after  the  common  ordinance 
of  Holy  Church."  Again  he  says  "  whoso 
will  travail  in  this  work,  let  him  first  clean  his 
conscience  .  .  .  this  is  that  work  in  which 
a  soul  should  travail  all  his  life-time,  though 

'  T/ie  Cloud  of  Unl^noiving,  ch.  iii. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages      I2i 

he  had  never  sinned  deadly.  And  the  whiles 
that  a  soul  is  dwelling  in  this  deadly  flesh  it 
shall  evermore  see  and  feel  this  cumbrous 
cloud  of  unknowing  betwixt  him  and  God." 

\r\.  An  Epistle  ofDiscretion^  if  it  be  really  his, 
he  refers  directly  to  the  senses,  and  leaving  his 
accustomed  manner,  reminiscent  as  it  is  of  S. 
John  of  the  Cross,  who  wrote  a  century  and 
a  half  later,  he  approximates  more  closely  to 
the  author  of  the  Ancren  Riwle  :  "  Beware  and 
prove  well  thy  stirrings,  and  whence  they  come  ; 
for  how  so  thou  art  stirred,  whether  from  with- 
in by  grace,  or  from  without  on  ape's  manner, 
God  wot  and  I  not.^  Nevertheless,  this  may 
I  say  thee  in  eschewing  of  perils  like  unto  this  : 
look  that  thou  be  no  ape,  that  is  to  say,  look 
that  thy  stirrings  to  silence  or  to  speaking,  to 
fasting  or  to  eating,  to  onliness  or  to  company, 
whether  they  be  come  from  within  of  abundance 
of  love  or  of  devotion  in  the  spirit,  and  not 
from  without  of  thy  bodily  wits,  as  thine  ears 
and  thine  eyes.  For,  as  Jeremiah  saith  plainly, 
by  such  windows  cometh  in  death  :  Mors  intrat 
per  fenestras.''  2 

If  we  will  really  grasp  the  doctrine  of  the 
mystics,  not  in  the  lump,  so  to  speak,  for  that 
cannot  be  done,  but  of  each  one,  fully,  adequate- 
ly, in  turn,  then  we    must  give  heed   to   the 

'  i.e.  ne  wot  =  know  not. 

^  An  Epistle  of  Discretion,  p.   103  of  The  Cell  of  Self- 
Knowledge . 


122  English  Mystics 

almost  passionate  entreaty  of  the  author  of  The 
Cloud  of  Unknowing  :  "  And  over  this  I  charge 
thee  and  I  beseech  thee,  by  the  authority  of 
charity,  that  if  any  such  shall  read  it,  write  it,  or 
speak  it,  or  else  hear  it  to  be  read  or  spoken, 
that  thou  charge  him  as  I  do  thee  for  to  take 
time  to  read  it,  speak  it,  write  it,  or  hear  it  all 
over.  For  peradventure  there  is  some  matter 
therein,  in  the  beginning  or  in  the  middle,  the 
which  is  hanging,  and  not  fully  declared  where 
it  standeth  :  and  if  it  be  not  there,  it  is  soon 
after,  or  else  in  the  end.  Wherefore,  if  a  man 
saw  one  matter  and  not  another,  peradventure 
he  might  lightly  be  led  into  error  ;  and 
therefore  in  eschewing  of  this  error,  both  in 
thyself  and  in  all  other,  I  pray  thee  for  charity 
do  as  I  say  thee."  ^ 

If  we  choose  to  content  ourselves  with  snip- 
pets ;  if  we  will  not  consider  it  "  all  over," 
we  are  bound  to  misrepresent  the  reality  of 
mysticism.  For  example,  where  we  find  such 
a  warning  as  "  All  thy  life  now  behoveth 
altogether  to  stand  in  desire,"  2  we  might 
hastily  say  that  this  goes  clean  contrary  to 
such  a  mystic  as  Jean  Rigoleuc,  the  seven- 
teenth-century Jesuit,  when  he  counsels  us 
to  rid  ourselves  of  all  effort  to  find  God,  since 
"  He  finds  us."  But  if  we  turn  the  page  of 
The  Cloudy  we  find  overleaf  a  qualifying  pas- 

'  TAe  Cloud  of  UHknofving,  p.  46.  ^  ibid.,  p.  69. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages      123 

sage,  which  I  have  already  quoted  :  "  He 
asketh  none  help,  but  only  thyself.  He  wills 
thou  do  but  look  on  Him,  and  let  Him  alone. 
And  keep  thou  the  windows  and  the  door,  for 
flies  and  enemies  assailing." 

It  is  only  by  taking  mysticism  whole  that 
a  sane  balance  can  be  kept.  Our  great  four- 
teenth-century woman  mystic.  Mother  Julian, 
differs  in  manner  and  matter  from  her  contem- 
poraries, Rolle,  Hilton,  and  the  anonymous 
writers.  Her  emphasis  is  on  illumination  : 
"  This  is  a  revelation  of  Love,  that  Jesu 
Christ  our  endless  blisse  made  in  xvi  shewings," 
so  her  unique  little  book  begins. 

It  is  right  to  note  that  if  the  addendum  to 
the  British  Museum  MS.  be  Mother  Julian's, 
and  not  merely  the  copyist's,  then  she,  in 
closing  her  book,  definitely  claims  union  as 
the  crown  of  her  illumination  :  "  Thus  endeth 
the  Revelation  of  Love  of  the  blissid  Trinite 
shewid  by  our  Savior  Christ  Jesu,  for  our 
endles  comfort  and  solace,  and  also  to 
enjoyen  in  him  in  this  passand  journey  of 
this  life." 

A  subtle  unlikeness  to  Mother  Julian  runs 
through  this  passage  however.  Her  concen- 
tration on  ^illumination  leaves  very  little  space 
for  purgation.  So  far  as  she  does  treat  of  it 
she  handles  it  with  surprising  individuality. 
To  begin  with,  her  horror  of  sin  will  not  only 
seem  extravagant  in  an  age  like  the  present, 


124  English  Mystics 

which  so  widely  denies  the  existence  of  such 
a  thing,  but  would  be  impressive  in  any  age. 
S.  Paul  did  not  dwell  on  it  more  vividly  :  "  I 
am  sure  by  my  own  feeling,  the  more  that  each 
kind  soul  seeth  this  in  the  courteous  love  of 
our  Lord  God,  the  lother  is  him  to  sin,  and 
the  more  he  is  ashamed  :  for  if  it  were  laid 
before  us  all  the  pain  that  is  in  hell,  and  in 
purgatory  and  in  earth,  to  suffer  it  rather  than 
sin,  we  should  rather  choose  all  that  pain  than 
sin  ;  for  sin  is  so  vile,  and  so  mickle  for  to 
hate  that  it  may  be  likned  to  no  pain  ;  which 
pain  is  not  sin.  And  to  me  was  shewed  none 
harder  hell  than  sin  ;  for  a  kind  soul  hateth 
no  pain  but  sin,  for  all  is  good  but  sin,  and 
naught  is  evil  but  sin."  ^ 

This  attitude  to  sin  has  in  it  nothing  con- 
ventional, nothing  borrowed  from  a  human 
teacher  :  it  is  the  instinctive  recoil  of  a  soul 
brought  face  to  face  with  real,  actual  sin,  in  its 
utmost  direness.  Later  on  she  says,  "Now  me 
behooveth  to  tell  in  what  manner  that  1  saw  sin 
deadly,  in  the  creatures  which  should  not  die 
for  sin,  but  live  in  the  glory  of  God  without 
end.  I  saw  that  tvpo  contraries  should  not  be 
together  in  one  steed. ^  The  most  contrarious 
that  are  is  the  highest  bliss,  and  the  deepest 
pain.  The  highest  bliss  that  is  is  to  have  God 
in  clerity  of  endless  light,   him  verily  seeing, 

'  Re1>elation$  ofDiYine  Loye,  ch.  xl.  '  place. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     125 

him  sweetly  feeling,  him  all  peaceable  having 
in  fulhead  of  joy  :  and  this  was  the  blessedtul 
chear  ^  of  our  Lord  God  showed  in  party.  In 
which  shewing  I  saw  that  sin  was  the  most 
contrary,  so  far  forth  that,  as  long  as  we  be 
medled  with  any  part  of  sin,  we  shall  never 
see  clearly  the  blessed  chear  of  God.  And 
the  horriblier  and  the  grievouser  that  our  sins 
be,  the  deeper  are  we  for  that  time  fro  this 
blessed  sight  .  .  .  thus  we  are  dead  for  the 
time  fro  the  very  sight  of  our  blessedful 
life."  2 

Then  follows  a  passage  singular  for  its  gather- 
ing up  in  one  the  very  core  of  mysticism — 
the  need  for  purgation,  the  light  of  "showing," 
and  the  goal  of  it  all,  union  :  "But  in  all  this 
I  saw  faithfully  that  we  be  not  dead  in  the 
sight  of  God,  ne  he  passeth  never  from  us, 
but  he  shall  never  have  his  full  bliss  in  us 
till  we  have  our  full  bliss  in  him,  verily 
seeing  his  fair  blessedful  chear,  for  we  are 
ordained  thereto  in  kind,  and  getten  thereto 
by  grace." 

As  we  ponder  on  Mother  Julian's  indestruct- 
ible, abiding  horror  of  sin,  that  most  "  con- 
trary thing "  to  God,  we  can  only  parallel  it 
with  Job's  bitter,  broken-hearted  cry  :  '-'■  Auditu 
auris  audivi  te  ;  nunc  autem  oculus  mens  videt  te. 
Idcirco  ipse  me  reprehendo^  et  ago  poenitentiam  in 

'  face.  ^  Revelations  of  'Divine  Loye,  ch.  Ixxi. 


126  English  Mystics 

faVtlla  et  cinereT  ^  Yet  that  which  Job  saw 
lacked  an  element  present  to  Mother  Julian. 
She  perceived  that  it  is  not  merely  by  looking 
at  sinfulness,  or  even  at  specific  sins — repeat- 
ing, in  self-examination,  as  we  are  apt  to  do, 
the  weary  familiar  questions,  have  I  done  this  ? 
have  I  said  that  ?  have  I  thought  the  other  ? 
with  the  monotonous  affirmative  refrain  which 
truth  compels — that  men  and  women  come  to 
loathe  sin  ;  nor  is  it  even  by  meditation  on 
the  majestic  purity  of  God,  as  that  was  made 
evident  to  Job  ;  nor  even  by  that  holy  fear 
which  she  enjoins  :  "  As  good  as  God  is,  as 
great  he  is  :  and  as  much  as  it  longeth  to  his 
Godhead  to  be  loved,  so  much  it  longeth  to  his 
great  highness  to  be  dread.  For  this  reverent 
dread  is  the  fairer  courtesie  that  is  in  heaven 
before  God's  face  .  .  .  Wherefore  it  behooveth 
needs  to  be,  that  all  heaven,  all  earth  shall 
tremble  and  quake,  when  the  pillars  shall 
tremble  and  quake."  - 

In  the  following  chapter  a  fuller  reference  to 
this  holy  fear  brings  us  to  realize  what  true 
conviction  of  sin  means  :  "  I  speak  but  little  of 
this  reverent  dread.  .  .  .  But  well  I  wote  that 
our  Lord  shewed  me  no  souls  but  those  that 
dread  him  ;  for  well  I  wote  the  soul  that  truly 

'  Job  xlii.  5,  6  (Vulg.)  :  "  I  have  heard  of  Thee  by  the 
hearing  of  the  ear,  and  now  mine  eye  seeth  Thee.  Where- 
fore I  abhor  myself,  and  repent  in  dust  and  ashes." 

^  Revelations  of 'Divine  Love,  ch.  Ixxiv. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     127 

taketh  the  teaching  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  it 
hateth  more  sin  for  the  vileness  and  the 
horribility  than  it  doth  all  the  pain  that  is  in 
hell.  For  the  soul  that  beholdeth  the  kind- 
ness of  our  Lord  Jesu,  it  hateth  no  hell  ;  but 
hell  is  sin  as  to  my  sight."  ' 

Here  we  see  the  true  nature  of  purgation, 
which,  though  it  may  need  to  be  worked  out 
in  an  atmosphere  into  which  fear  enters,  is  yet 
for  ever  differentiated  from  fear.  Here  also 
we  learn  that  though  for  convenience  of 
explanation  purgation  is  usually  regarded  as 
preceding  illumination  in  the  development  of 
the  mystical  life,  they  are  really  inextricably 
interdependent.  Only  the  pure  in  heart  can 
"  see  "  God,  yet  until  a  man  has  caught  some 
transient  gleam  of  God  he  will  scarcely  set  out 
to  cleanse  himself.  As  they  are  interwoven 
at  the  outset,  so  along  the  Way  they  act 
and  react.  Illumination  is  the  Holy  Spirit's 
gift  ;  and  so  Pere  Lallemant  writes  :  "  Les 
deux  elements  de  la  vie  interieure  sont  la 
purgation  du  coeur,  et  la  direction  du  Saint 
Esprit.  Ce  sont  la  les  deux  poles  de  toute 
la  spiritualite."2 

The  profoundest  cause,  not,  so  far  as  we  can 
judge,  perceived  by  Job,  of  purgative  effort 
Mother  Julian  has  shown  in  earlier  chapters  : 
*'He  without  voyce  and  opening  of  lips  formed 

'  ibid.,  ch.  Ixxv.  -  La  Doctrine  Spirituelle,  p.  181. 


128  English  Mystics 

in  my  soul  these  words  :  Herewith  is  the  fiend 
overcome.  This  word  said  our  Lord,  meaning 
His  blessed  passion,  as  He  shewed  before. 
In  this  our  Lord  shewed  part  of  the  fiend's 
malice,  and  fully  his  unmight,  for  He  shewed 
that  the  passion  of  Him  is  the  overcoming  of 
the  fiend."  '  Then  again  she  writes  :  "  The 
shewing  of  Christ's  pains  filled  me  full  of 
pains,  for  1  wist  well  that  He  suffered  but 
once  :  but  as  He  would  shew  it  me,  and  fill 
me  with  mind,  as  I  had  before  desired.  And 
in  all  this  time  of  Christ's  presence,  I  felt  no 
pain  but  for  Christ's  pains. 

"  Then  thought  me,  I  knew  full  little  what 
pain  it  was  that  I  asked,  and  as  a  wretch 
I  repented  me,  thinking  if  I  had  wist  what  it 
had  been,  loath  had  me  been  to  have  prayed 
it  ;  for  methought  my  pains  passed  any  bodily 
death.  I  thought,  '  Is  any  pain  in  hell  like 
this  } '  and  I  was  answered  in  my  reason.  Hell 
is  an  other  pain^  for  there  is  despair ;  but  of  all 
pains  that  lead  to  salvation  this  is  the  most^  to 
see  the  Lo'^er  to  suffer.  How  might  any  pain 
be  more  than  to  see  him  that  is  all  my  life, 
all  my  bliss,  and  all  my  joy,  suffer  ?  Here 
(felt)  1  steadfastly,  that  I  loved  Christ  so  much 
above  myself  that  there  was  no  pain  that 
might  be  suffered  like  to  that  sorrow  I  had  to 
see  him  in  pain."  ^ 

'  Revelations  ofD'tvlne  Love,  ch.  xiii.      ^  ibid.,  ch.  xvii. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages      129 

It  is  the  Passion  of  Christ,  realized,  which, 
as  the  guilt  of  having  caused  it  comes  home  to 
the  awakened  illumined  soul,  adds  an  intensity 
which  is  not  found  in  Job's  "  wherefore  I 
abhor  myself." 

The  earnest  and  detailed  manner  of  medi- 
tating on  the  sacred  Passion,  which  was 
practised  in  mediaeval  times,  is  clearly  shown 
in  these  three  passages  from  S.  Bonaventura's 
Trivity  of  the  Passion.  His  works  were  widely 
read,  in  the  original,  and  in  the  English  form, 
as  that  has  come  down  to  us  in  the  Thornton 
MS.  in  Lincoln  Cathedral  Library.  If,  as  is 
probable,  Rolle  was  not  its  translator,  it  is 
none  the  less  an  excellent  specimen  of  Eng- 
land's unadorned,  intensely  direct  devotional 
method. 

The  first  passage  dwells  on  the  need  for 
intellectual  effort  in  meditation  on  the  Passion  : 
"  For  he  that  searcheth  into  it  with  deep 
thought,  and  with  all  his  thought  lastingly,  he 
shall  find  full  many  things  therein  stirring  him 
to  new  compassion,  new  love,  new  ghostly 
comfort,  and  so  shall  he  be  brought  into 
a  new  ghostly  sweetness.  To  get  this  state 
that  I  speak  of,  I  trow  that  it  behoves  a  man 
to  raise  up  all  the  sharpness  of  his  mind,  and 
open  wide  the  inner  eye  of  his  soul." 

Though  there  was  no  fussy  popular  talk 
about  psychology  in  the  fourteenth  century,  it 
existed  as  the  following  passage  shows  :  "  Thou 

K 


130  English  Mystics 

shalt  understand  that  there  were  many  and 
diverse  wills  in  Him,  as  Doctors  say:  there  was 
in  Him  the  will  of  the  flesh,  and  that  one 
would  nowise  suffer  death  :  there  was  also  in 
Him  the  will  of  Reason,  and  that  was  obedient 
and  consenting  to  die  :  there  was  also  in  Him 
the  will  of  the  God-head,  and  that  commanded 
and  ordained  Him  to  die." 

These  extracts  are  from  what  I  might  call 
the  introduction  to  the  Privity  of  the  Tassion. 
Then  follow  meditations  for  "  the  Hours." 
That  for  None  is  on  the  Seven  Words.  The 
treatment  in  this  very  free  English  translation 
of  the  fifth  word  is  a  good  example  of  the 
wholesome,  sober  realization  of  facts,  so  charac- 
teristic of  our  forefathers  :  "  The  fifth  word 
was  '  I  thirst.'  This  was  a  bitter  word,  full  of 
compassion, I  both  to  His  Mother  and  to  S. 
John,  and  to  all  His  friends  that  loved  Him 
tenderly:  and  to  the  unpitying  Jews  it  was  full 
of  comfort  and  great  joy.  For  though  it  were 
so  that  He  thirsted  for  the  health  of  man's 
soul,  nevertheless,  in  all  soothfastness  He 
thirsted  bodily  :  and  that  was  no  wonder,  for 
through  shedding  of  His  precious  blood  so 
abundantly,  and  for  the  great  anguish  which 
He  suffered  without  ceasing  from  the  Thurs- 
day at  even  to  the  Friday  at  high  noon,  He 
was  all  inwardly  dry  and  thirsty.     And  when 

^  i.e.  provoking  compassion. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     131 

these  unpitying  men  bethought  themselves  in 
what  they  might  most  injure  Him,  they  took 
vinegar  and  gall  and  mingled  together  and 
gave  Him   to  drink." 

Though  Mother  Julian  shows,  perhaps  more 
definitely  than  some  other  writers,  the  connec- 
tion between  Purgation  and  Illumination,  she 
goes  on,  in  a  wonderful  strain,  to  show  how  the 
former  may  cease  for  a  time,  and  then  illumina- 
tion floods  into  the  cleansed  soul :  "It  is  God's 
will  as  to  my  understanding  that  we  have  three 
manners  of  beholding  ot  his  blessed  passion. 
The  first  is  the  beholding  the  hard  pain  that 
he  suffered  with  a  contrition  and  compassion  : 
and  that  shewed  our  Lord  at  this  time,  and 
gave  me  grace  and  might  to  see  it.  And 
I  looked  after  the  departing  with  all  my 
mights,  and  weened  to  have  seen  the  body  all 
dead,  but  I  saw  him  not  so.  And  right  in 
the  same  time  that  me  thought  by  seeming  that 
the  life  might  no  longer  last,  and  the  shewing 
of  the  end  behoved  needs  to  be  nigh,  suddenly 
I  beholding  in  the  same  cross,  he  changed  in 
blessedful  chear  :  the  changing  of  his  blessed 
chear  changed  mine,  and  I  was  as  glad  and 
merry  as  it  was  possible.  Then  brought  our 
Lord  merrily  to  my  mind.  Where  is  now  any 
point  of  thy  pain  or  of  thy  anguish  ?  And  I  was 
full  merry  :  I  understood  that  we  be  now,  in 
our  Lord's  meaning,  in  his  Cross  with  him 
— in    our    pains   and  in   our    passion — dying. 


132  English  Mystics 

And  we  wilfully  ^  abiding  in  the  same  cross, 
with  his  help  and  his  grace  into  the  last 
point,  he  shall  suddenly  change  his  chear  to 
us  :  and  we  shall  be  with  him  in  heaven  : 
between  that  one  and  that  other  shall  all  be 
one  time,  and  then  shall  all  be  brought  into 
joy.  And  so  meant  he  in  this  shewing  : 
Where  is  now  any  point  of  thy  pain  or  thy  grief  ? 
.  .  .  And  for  this  little  pain  that  we  suffer 
here,  we  shall  have  an  high  endless  knowing 
in  God,  which  we  might  never  have  here  with- 
out that  ;  and  the  harder  our  pains  have  been 
with  him  in  his  Cross,  the  more  shall  our 
worship  be  with  him  in  his  kingdom."  2 
Only  the  Psalmist's  verse  seems  the  right 
comment  on  such  illumination  as  this — "  Tunc 
locutus  es  in  ')>isione  Sanctis  tuts.''  3 

As  P^re  Bremond  wrote  of  P^re  Lallemant, 
so  we  may  feel  as  we  come  away  from  our  own 
mystics :  "  Apr^s  avoir  rencontre  un  de  ccs 
hommes  extraordinaires  a  qui  le  monde  sur- 
naturel  parait  plus  reel  que  I'autre,  on  n'est 
plus  le  m6me."4  Was  it  perhaps  the  mystical 
fibre  in  Socrates,  the  capacity  to  realize  the 
supernatural,  which  caused  it  to  be  said  of 
him    that  men  went  away  from    hearing   him 

'   i.e.  with  full  deliberate  will. 
^  Revelations  ofDiyine  Lo'Ye,  ch.  xxi. 
3  Ps.    Ixxxviii.    20  (Vulg.).   "  Thou    spakest    sometimes 
in  visions  unto  Thy  saints"   (Coverdale). 

♦  Histoire  Litieraire  du  Sentiment  Religieux  en  France,  p.  67. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     133 

talk  with  the  point  of  what  he  said  sticking 
in  their  minds  so  that  they  could  not  get 
rid  of  it  ? 

Rolle's  account  of  Illumination  is  at  least  as 
characteristic  and  individual  as  Mother  Julian's, 
and  far  more  deliberately  thought  out  and 
elaborated.  He  distinguishes  three  conditions 
of  the  soul,  which  he  calls  respectively  heat^ 
song^  and  sweetness  ;  though  when  all  the 
pertinent  passages  are  put  side  by  side,  it 
still  remains  a  little  difficult  to  discover 
precisely  where  purgation  becomes  illumina- 
tion, and  illumination  passes  into  contem- 
plation  or   union. 

His  description  of  his  sudden  illumination, 
after  a  bitter  period  of  purgation  lasting  for 
more  than  two  and  a  half  years,  is  the  more 
impressive  because  he  first  writes  of  it  as  if  it 
could  be  discussed  from  the  point  of  view  ot 
one  not  illumined  but  merely  taught  by  books, 
and  heightens  this  probability  by  descanting 
on  the  possibility  of  being  deceived  :  "  As  I, 
forsooth,  seeking  in  Scripture  might  find  and 
know,  the  high  love  of  Christ  soothly  stands 
in  three  things  :  in  heat,  in  song,  in  sweet- 
ness." I  It  will  be  noticed  that  he  does  not 
say  his  knowledge  is,  but  that  it  might  be 
derived  from  Scripture.  Further  on  he  sounds 
a   note  of  warning  :  "  Some  ignorant  of  con- 

*  The  Tire  of  Love,  Bk.  I,  ch.  xiv. 


134  English  Mystics 

templative  life  are  deceived  by  the  fiend  of  the 
midday  ^  into  a  false  and  feigned  sweetness, 
for  they  trow  themselves  full  high  when  they 
are  low."  ^ 

This  suggests  what  experience  proves,  that 
mere  book-knowledge  of  mysticism  may  lead 
a  man  far  astray.  Rolle,  however,  in  between 
these  two  passages  which  I  have  quoted,  con- 
fesses that  he  is  not  a  mere  curious  student  ; 
he  describes  illumination  from  the  point  of 
view  of  one  illumined  :  "  I  have  now,  Jesu 
granting,  received  these  three  after  the  little- 
ness of  my  capacity.   .   .   . 

"  Soothly,  heat  I  call  it  when  the  mind  is 
truly  kindled  in  love  everlasting  ;  and  the 
heart  in  the  same  manner,  not  hopingly,  but 
verily,  is  felt  to  burn.  For  the  heart  turned 
into  fire  gives  the  feeling  of  burning  love. 

"  Songy  I  call  it,  when  in  a  soul  the  sweetness 
of  everlasting  praise  is  received  with  plenteous 
burning,  and  thought  is  turned  into  song,  and 
the  mind  is  changed  into  full  sweet  sound. 

"  These  two  are  not  gotten  in  idleness,  but 
in  high  devotion,  to  which  the  third  is  near, 
that  is  to  say,  sweetness  untrowed.  For  heat 
and  song  truly  cause  a  marvellous  sweetness  in 
the  soul  ;  and  also  they  may  be  caused  by  full 
great  sweetness.     Truly  there  is  not  any  deceit 

'  "  Ab  incursu,  et  daemonio  meridiano." — Ps.  xc.  6 
(Vulg.). 

^  The  Fire  of  Love,  Bk.  I,  ch.  xiv. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     135 

in  this  plenteousness,  but  rather  it  is  the  most 
perfect  ending  of  all  deeds."  ^ 

A  beautiful  passage  in  an  earlier  chapter 
calls  mystics  "the  receivers  of  the  joy  of  love," 
and  declares  that  "they  are  altogether  set  on  fire 
with  the  most  high  fire  of  love  burning  within 
their  souls.  So  sweetly  and  devoutly  have 
they  loved  God  that  whatsoever  they  have  felt 
in  themselves  was  ghostly  heat,  heavenly  song, 
and  godly  sweetness."  2 

Perhaps  Rolle's  nearest  approach,  that  is  so 
far  as  he  puts  it  into  words,  to  the  doctrine  of 
"the  spark  at  the  apex  of  the  soul"  is  found 
in  these  words  :  "  His  love  truly  is  fire,  mak- 
ing our  souls  fiery,  which  fire  burning  in  them 
that  are  chosen  ever  makes  them  look  up  in 
mind." 3  He  returns  to  this,  but  more  vaguely, 
in  the  next  chapter:  "In  this  burning  of 
sweetest  love  they  are  taken  up  to  the  be- 
holding of  their  Beloved  :  and  by  means  of 
this  most  happy  flame  they  are  flourishing  in 
virtue,  and  freely  enjoy  their  Maker,  and  their 
mind  changed  now  passes  into  the  melody  that 
lasts"  ;  and  again,  with  a  touch  of  the  intenser 
emphasis  which  marks  the  fourth  chapter  : 
"  They  are  altogether  set  on  fire  with  the 
most  high  fire  of  love,  burning  within  their 
souls."  4 

Then,    after    dwelling    again    on    the    hard 

^  ibid.,  ch.  xix.         ^  ch.  v.  3  ch.  iv.  '<  ch.  iv. 


136  English  Mystics 

Purgative  Way,  beset  as  it  is  with  the  tempta- 
tions of"  low  things  "  on  every  hand,  he  pulls 
himself  up  short  as  he  bethinks  himself  of  the 
one  only  remedy  :  "  But  these  outcasting  for 
the  sake  of  one,  my  soul  was  taken  up  to  the 
love  of  my  Maker ;  and  desiring  to  be  end- 
lessly delighted  with  sweetness,  I  gave  my 
soul  up  so  that  in  devotion  she  should  love 
Christ."  I 

With  rapture  he  tells  of  the  flooding,  illu- 
mining light  :  "  Forsooth,  three  years  except 
three  or  four  months  were  run  from  the  begin- 
ning of  the  change  of  my  life  and  of  my  mind, 
to  the  opening  of  the  heavenly  door  ;  so  that 
the  Face  being  shown,  the  eyes  of  the  heart 
might  behold  and  see,  by  what  way  they  might 
seek  my  Love,  and  unto  Him  continually  desire. 
The  doors  forsooth,  yet  biding  open,  nearly 
a  year  passed  until  the  time  in  which  the  heat 
of  everlasting  love  was  verily  felt  in  my  heart. 

"  I  was  sitting  forsooth  in  a  chapel,  and 
whiles  I  was  mickle  delighted  with  sweetness 
of  prayer  and  meditation,  suddenly  I  felt 
within  me  a  merry  and  unknown  heat.  But 
first  I  wavered,  for  a  long  time  doubting  what 
it  could  be.  I  was  expert  that  it  was  not  from 
a  creature,  but  from  my  Maker,  because  1  found 
it  grow  hotter  and  more  glad. 

"  Truly  in  this  unhoped  for,  sensible,  and 

'  ibid.,  ch.  XV. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     137 

sweet-smelling  heat,  half  a  year,  three  months, 
and  some  weeks  have  outrun,  until  the 
unshedding  and  receiving  of  this  ghostly 
sound.   .   .   . 

"Whiles  truly  I  sat  in  this  same  chapel  .  .  . 
whiles  also  I  took  heed  praying  to  heaven  with 
my  whole  desire,  suddenly,  I  wot  not  in  what 
manner,  I  felt  in  me  the  noise  of  song,  and 
received  the  most  liking  heavenly  melody 
which  dwelt  with  me  in  my  mind  .  .  .  and 
in  my  prayers  and  psalm-singing  (saying). 
1  uttered  the  same  sound,  and  henceforth, 
for  plenteousness  of  inward  sweetness,  I  burst 
out  singing  what  before  I  said,  but  forsooth 
privily,    because   alone  before  my  Maker."  ^ 

Another  passage  shows  that  heat^  ^ong^  and 
sweetness^  while  in  one  sense  degrees  of  illumin- 
ation, in  another  indicate  all  the  three  mystical 
steps  —  cleansing,  illumination,  and  union  : 
"  Wherefore,  from  the  beginning  of  my 
changed  soul  into  the  high  degree  of  Christ's 
love,  the  which,  God  granting,  I  was  able  to 
attain — in  which  degree  I  might  sing  God's 
praises  with  joyful  song- — I  was  four  years  and 
about  three  months.  Here  forsooth — with  the 
first  disposition  of  love  gathered  into  this  de- 
gree, she  bides  to  the  very  end  ;  and  also  after 
death  she  shall  be  more  perfect  ;  because  here 
the  joy  of  love  or  burning  of  charity  is  begun, 

'  ch.  XV. 


138  English  Mystics 

and  in  the  heavenly  kingdom  it  shall  receive 
its  most  glorious  ending.  And  forsooth  she 
profits  not  a  little,  set  in  these  degrees  in  life, 
but  she  ascends  not  into  another  degree,  but  as 
it  were  confirmed  in  grace,  as  far  as  mortal 
man  can,  she  rests,"  ^ 

Here  Rolle  writes  as  if  only  a  very  shadowy 
degree  of  union  were  possible  to  man  in  this 
life  ;  but  in  the  beautiful  close  of  the  treatise 
he  wrote  for  Margaret  Kirkby — The  Form  of 
Perfect  Livings  couched  on  the  whole  in  a  more 
restrained  vein  than  The  Fire  of  Love — he 
writes  with  far  more  confidence,  admitting  the 
possibility  of  partial  "  sight  "  here,  which  shall 
become  full  vision  hereafter  :  "  A  man  or 
woman  that  is  appointed  to  contemplative  life, 
first  God  inspires  them  to  forsake  this  world 
and  all  the  vanity  and  covetousness  and  vile 
lust  thereof.  Afterwards,  He  leads  them  by 
their  love  and  speaks  to  their  heart  .  .  .  and 
then  He  sets  them  in  the  will  to  give  them- 
selves wholly  to  prayers  and  meditations  and 
tears.  Afterwards,  when  they  have  suffered 
many  temptations,  and  when  the  foul  annoy- 
ances of  thoughts  that  are  idle  and  of  vanities 
which  will  encumber  those  who  cannot  destroy 
them  are  passing  away.  He  makes  them  gather 
up  their  heart  to  them  and  fasten  it  only  in 
Him,  and  opens  to  the  eye  of  their  souls  the 

»  ibid.,  ch.  XV. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     139 

gates  of  heaven  ;  and  then  the  fire  of  love  verily 
lies  in  their  heart  and  burns  therein,  and  makes 
it  clean  from  all  earthly  filth,  and  afterwards 
they  are  contemplative  men,  and  ravished  in 
love.     For  contemplation  is  a  sight,  and  they 
see  into  heaven  with  their  ghostly  eye.     But 
thoushalt  wit  that  no  man  has  perfect  sight  of 
heaven  while  they  live   bodily   here.     But  as 
soon  as  they  die  they  are  brought  before  God, 
and  see  Him  face  to  face  and  eye  to  eye,  and 
dwell  with  Him  without  end.     For  Him  they 
sought,  and  Him  they  coveted,  and  Him  they 
loved    with    all   their   might.       Lo   Margaret, 
I  have  told  thee  shortly  the  Form  of  Living, 
and  how  thou  mayest  come  to  perfection,  and 
to  love  Him  whom  thou  hast  taken  thee  to. 
If  it  do  thee  good,  and  profit  to  thee,  thank 
God   and   pray  for  me.     The  grace   of  Jesus 
Christ  be  with  thee  and  keep  thee.     Amen."  ' 
The  contrast  between    this    closing  passage 
and  the  conclusion  of  The  Fire  of  Lo')>e  is  sharp  : 
"In  the  beginning  truly  of  my  conversion  and 
singular  purpose,  I  thought  I  would  be  like 
the  little  bird  that  languishes  for  the  love  of 
his  beloved,  but  is  gladdened  in  his   longing 
when  he  that  it  loves  comes  (and  sings  with 
joy  and   in  its    song)  also    languishes,  but   in 
sweetness  and  heat.     It  is  said  that  the  night- 
ingale is  given  to  song  and  melody  all  night, 

"   The  Form  of  Perfect  Living,  ch.  xi. 


140  English  Mystics 

that  she  may  please  him  to  whom  she  is 
joined.  How  mickle  more  should  I  sing  with 
greatest  sweetness  to  Christ  my  Jesu,  that  is 
Spouse  of  my  soul  through  all  this  present  life 
that  is  night  in  regard  to  the  clearness  to  come, 
so  that  I  should  languish  in  longing  and  die 
for  love.  .  .  .  O  good  Jesu,  Thou  hast  bound 
my  heart  in  the  thought  of  Thy  Name,  and 
now  I  can  not  but  sing  it  ;  therefore  have 
mercy  upon  me,  making  perfect  that  Thou 
hast  ordained.  Thy  true  and  busy  lover  is 
ravished  into  ghostly  song  of  mind,  that  it  is 
impossible  that  any  such  sweetness  be  of  the 
fiend,  or  such  heat  from  any  creature,  nor  such 
song  from  man's  wit  :  in  which  if  I  abide, 
I  shall  be  safe."  J 

Perhaps  in  few  matters  do  men  differ  more 
than  in  their  appreciation  of  spiritual  writings. 
Probably,  therefore,  some  will  find  the  climax 
of  Rolle's  beauty  of  soul  in  this  passage,  others 
in  the  final  paragraphs  of  The  Form  of  Perfect 
Living.  It  must  be  admitted  that  in  The  Fire 
of  Love  he  is  partially  attending  to  himself  and 
to  his  feelings  as  he  likens  himself  to  a  little 
bird.  In  the  other,  as  he  tells  of  the  Perfect 
Way,  he  seems  to  have  forgotten  everything 
but  the  goal  :  "  Him  they  sought.  Him  they 
coveted,  and  Him  they  loved  with  all  their 
might." 

'  Ihe  Fire  of  Love,  Bk.  II,  ch.  xii. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     14 1 

The  Fire  of  Love  has  come  down  to  us  in 
Latin,  the  Latin  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The 
Form  of  Perfect  Living  Rolle  wrote  in  that 
vernacular  which  he  was  one  of  the  earliest 
English  writers  to  use  persistently  and  so 
effectively.  In  his  beautiful  Middle  English — 
cadenced,  picturesque,  directly  to  the  point — he 
surely  had  found  a  vehicle  fit  to  carry  that 
sober,  indestructible  devotion  which  is  so 
sweet  and  signal  a  characteristic  of  fourteenth- 
century  England. 

Professor  Horstman,  in  his  edition  of 
Rolle's  works,  describes  him  as  "  one  of  the 
most  prolific  and  influential  authors  of  the 
time,"  and  observes  that,  among  others,  Walter 
Hilton  "  passed  through  his  school."  i 

That  may  be  so,  but  the  process  did  not 
cost  Hilton  his  individuality.  One  vital  dis- 
tinction between  the  two  men  lies  in  Hilton's 
implicit  and  explicit  disclaimer  of  being  himself 
a  mystic.  He  describes  the  mystical  state,  but, 
so  he  will  have  it,  from  the  outside  and  not, 
so  far  as  he  will  admit,  from  experience.  First, 
he  does  this  implicitly  :  "  To  the  perfection 
of  this  high  Contemplation  may  no  man  come 
till  he  be  first  reformed  in  soul  to  the  likeness 
of  Jesus,  in  the  perfection  of  virtues  ;  nor  can 
any  man  living  in  mortal  body  have  it  contin- 
ually and  habitually  in  the  height  of  it,  but  by 

'  Library  of  Early  English  Writers,  Richard  Rolle  of  Ham- 
pole,  vol.  i,  p.  xiv. 


142  English  Mystics 

times  when  he  is  visited.  And,  as  I  conceive 
by  the  writings  of  holy  men,  it  is  a  full  short 
time,  for  some  time  after  he  returneth  to 
a  sobriety  of  bodily  feeling."  ^ 

Then,  this  time  explicitly,  he  writes  :  "  So 
then,  I  have  told  thee  a  little,  as  methinketh, 
first  of  Contemplative  Life,  what  it  is  ;  and 
then  of  the  ways  which,  by  the  grace  of  God, 
lead  thereunto.  Not  as  if  I  had  it  myself 
in  feeling  and  working,  as  I  have  it  in 
talking.  Nevertheless  1  would  by  this  writing 
of  mine  (such  as  it  is)  first  stir  up  my 
own  negligence  to  do  better  than  I  have 
done."  2 

Yet,  though  he  makes  no  claim  to  such 
a  place,  he  is  rightly  ranked  with  the  mystics, 
for  had  he  really  had  no  mystical  experience, 
how  could  he  have  written  as  he  does  at  the 
end  of  his  book  :  "  These  are  the  spiritual 
things  that  I  spake  of  before  .  .  .  and  I  do  but 
touch  them  a  little  for  direction  of  a  soul  ; 
for  a  soul  that  is  pure,  stirred  up  by  grace 
to  use  this  working,  may  see  more  of  such 
spiritual  working  in  an  hour  than  can  be 
writ  in  a  great  book  "  }  3 

That  is  the  kind  of  touch  which  differentiates 
knowledge  from  mere  curious  or  studious 
interest. 

Then,    as    a    smaller    but     still     significant 

'   The  Scale  of  Perfection,  Bk.  I,  pt.  i,  ch.  ix.  ^  ibid. 

3    ibid.,  Bk.  II,  pt.  iii,  ch.  xv. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     143 

unlikeness  to  Rolle,  there  is  his  use  of  quite 
diiFerent  terms.  He  speaks  of  "  contempla- 
tion "  not,  as  Rolle  does,  as  if  it  were  prac- 
tically synonymous  with  union,  but  as  being 
of  three  kinds,  of  which,  properly,  only  the 
last  can  be  described  as  mystical.  Thus  he 
writes  :  "  Contemplative  life  hath  three 
parts.  The  first  consisteth  in  knowing  God, 
and  of  spiritual  things  gotten  by  reason  and 
discourse,  by  teaching  of  men,  and  by  study  in 
Holy  Scripture.  .  .  .  This  part  have  specially 
in  them  learned  men  and  great  scholars,  who 
through  long  study  and  travail  in  Holy  Writ, 
attain  to  this  knowledge  more  or  less  by  the 
abilities  of  their  natural  wit,  which  God  giveth 
to  every  one,  more  or  less,  that  hath  use  of 
reason.  This  knowledge  is  good,  and  may  be 
called  a  kind  or  part  of  Contemplation,  inas- 
much as  it  is  a  sight  of  verity  and  a  knowledge 
of  spiritual  things.  Nevertheless  it  is  but 
a  figure  and  shadow  of  true  Contemplation^ 
since  it  hath  no  spiritual  gust  or  taste  in  God, 
nor  inward  sweetness,  which  none  feels  but  he 
that  is  in  great  love  of  charity  ;  for  it  is  the 
proper  Well  or  Spring  of  our  Lord,  to  which 
no  alien  is  admitted.  But  this  aforesaid  man- 
ner of  knowing  is  common  both  to  good  and 
bad  without  charity,  and  therefore  it  is  not  very 
contemplation."  ^ 

'  Bk.  I,  pt.  i,  ch.  iv. 


144  English  Mystics 

There    seems    no    difference    oetween    this 
condition  and  ordinary  theological  learning. 

Then  Hilton  describes  the  "  second  sort  of 
contemplation,"  saying  that  it  "lieth  principally 
in  affection,  without  spiritual  light  in  the  under- 
standing or  sight  of  spiritual  things,  and  this 
is  commonly  of  simple  and  unlearned  men  who 
give  themselves  wholly  to  cievotion."  ^  He 
goes  on  to  describe  this  condition  as  occurring 
when  a  person  is  meditating  or  praying  :  "  He 
findeth  all  the  powers  of  his  soul  to  be  gathered 
together,  and  the  thought  and  love  of  his 
heart  to  be  drawn  up  from  all  transitory  things, 
aspiring  and  tending  upwards  towards  God  by 
a  fervent  desire  and  spiritual  delight,  yet 
nevertheless,  during  that  time,  he  hath  no 
plain  sight  in  his  understanding  of  spiritual 
things,  nor  in  particular  of  any  of  the  mysteries 
or  senses  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  :  but  only  for 
that  time  nothing  seemeth  so  plain  and  dehght- 
ful  as  to  pray  or  think  as  he  then  doth  for  the 
savoury  delight  and  comfort  that  he  findeth 
therein,  and  yet  cannot  he  tell  what  it  is,  but 
he  feeleth  it  well."  -  Hilton  goes  on  to  say  : 
"  Such  feelings  as  these  cannot  be  had  without 
great  grace,  and  whoso  hath  any  of  them  or 
other  such  like,  he  is  at  that  time  in  charity 
and  the  grace  of  God."  3 

It  is  evident  that  here  Hilton  is  not  speaking 

»  ibid.,  ch.  V.  ="  ibid.  3  ibid. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     145 

either  of  illumination  proper  or  of  union,  but 
rather  of  the  gaining  of  that  atmosphere  of  love 
which  all  mystics  regard  as  a  pre-essential  to 
every  genuine  mystical  state.  Hilton  insists 
on  nothing  being  seen^  or  knovon^  or  understood 
in  this  condition  ;  he  "  cannot  tell  what  it  is, 
but  he  feeleth  it  well."  He  is  describing 
a  state  of  the  feelings,  rather  than  a  phase  of 
mystical  awareness. 

Then  he  comes  to  the  "third  sort  of  contem- 
plation." In  this  condition  illumination  and 
union  seem,  according  to  Hilton,  to  be  gath- 
ered up  into  one  single  happening  :  "  The 
third  sort,  which  is  as  perfect  Contemplation 
as  can  be  had  in  this  life,  consisteth  both  in 
knowing  and  affecting;  that  is,  in  knowing  and 
perfect  loving  of  God,  which  is  when  a  man's 
soul  is  first  reformed  by  perfection  of  virtues 
to  the  image  of  Jesus,  and  afterwards  when  it 
pleaseth  God  to  visit  him,  he  is  taken  in  from 
all  earthly  and  fleshly  affections,  from  vain 
thoughts  and  imaginings  of  all  bodily  creatures, 
and,  as  it  were,  much  ravished  and  taken  up 
from  his  bodily  senses,  and  then  by  the  grace 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  is  enlightened  to  see  by  his 
understanding  Truth  itself  (which  is  God)  and 
spiritual  things  with  a  soft,  sweet,  burning  love 
in  God,  so  perfectly  that  he  becometh  ravished 
with  His  love,  and  so  the  soul  for  the  time  is 
become  one  with  God.  .  .  .  The  beginning  of 
this  Contemplation  may  be  felt  in  this  life,  but 

L 


146  English  Mystics 

the  full  perfection  of  it  is  reserved  unto  the 
bliss  of  heaven.  Of  this  union  and  conforming 
to  our  Lord  speaks  S.  Paul  thus  :  Qui  adhaeret 
Deo  unus  spiritus  est  cum  eo.  .  .  .  And  surely  in 
this  o«^/«^consisteth  the  marriage  which  passeth 
betwixt  God  and  the  soul,  that  shall  never  be 
dissolved  or  broken."  ^ 

That  mystical  experience  is  not  an  indivi- 
dual idiosyncrasy,  nor,  as  some  seem  to  think, 
even  worse,  a  species  of  mental  failure,  is  shown 
by  the  parallelism  of  exposition  and  descrip- 
tion exhibited  by  different  mystical  writers. 
The  more  the  great  Catholic  mystics  are  studied 
the  more  evident  becomes  the  fundamental 
similarity  of  their  experience.  A  salient  in- 
stance of  a  resemblance,  not  only  material  but 
to  a  great  extent  verbal,  to  these  passages  from 
Hilton  may  be  found  in  The  Epistle  of  Prayer  : 
"  I  would  that  thou  knew  what  manner  of 
working  it  is  that  knitteth  man's  soul  to  God, 
and  that  maketh  it  one  with  Him  in  love  and 
accordance  of  will,  after  the  word  of  S.  Paul, 
saying  thus  :  Qui  adhaeret  Deo^  unus  spiritus  est 
cum  tllo  ;  .  .  .  that  is  though  all  that  God  and 
he  be  two  and  sere  "  (sundry  ?)  "  in  kind, 
nevertheless  yet  in  grace  they  are  so  knit 
together  that  they  are  but  one  in  spirit  :  and 
all  this  is  for  onehead  of  love  and  accordance 
of  will  ;  and  in  this  onehead  is  the  marriage 

'  ibid.,  Bk.  I,  pt.  i,  ch.  viii. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     147 

made  between  God  and  the  soul,  the  which 
shall  never  be  broken  .  .  .  but  by  a  deadly 
Sin.     I 

Hilton's  doctrine  of  purgation,  its  necessity 
and  manner,  is  to  be  found  in  the  opening 
chapter  of  his  Treatise  'Written  to  a  Devout  Man^ 
wherein  he  warns  his  "dear  Brother  in  Christ" 
that  "  a  spiritual  man  must  first  use  much 
Bodily  exercise  in  Penance  and  in  Destroying 
of  Sin." 

Hilton  enumerates  the  usual  methods  of 
mortifying  the  body — fasting,  watching,  self- 
restraint,  performance  of  penance.  But  his 
emphasis  is  on  the  necessity  of  eradicating 
spiritual  sins  :  "  Break  down  first  pride  within 
thee  .  .  .  mortifying  within  thee  all  vainglory 
and  complacence  in  thyself  for  any  talent, 
gift,  or  thing  corporal  or  spiritual  that  God 
hath  bestowed  on  thee."  2  Next  comes  the 
command  :  "  Mortify  and  destroy  within  thee, 
as  soon  as  thou  art  able,  all  envy  and  anger 
toward  thy  Christian  brethren "  ;  and  next, 
"  all  coveting  of  worldly  goods."  Lastly, 
"  Mortify  also,  and  destroy  as  much  as  thou 
canst,  all  yielding  to  bodily  sloth,  and  unneces- 
sary bodily  ease,  and  the  sensual  vices  of 
gluttony  and  luxury." 

Though,  so  far  as  actual  phrases  go,  Hilton 

'  The  Epistle  of  Trayer,  published   in   The  Cell  of  Self- 
Knoivledge,  p.  88. 

'  Treatise  to  a  De'VoutiMan,  ch,  i. 


148  English  Mystics 

does  not,  in  The  Scale  of  Perfection,  dwell  on  the 
work  of  purgation,  yet  he  says  much  about  the 
necessity  for  and  the  method  of  disciplining 
the  senses. 

He  writes,  in  the  true  vein  of  sound  Catholic 
mysticism,  that  "  visions,  revelations,  or  any 
manner  of  spirit  in  bodily  appearing  ...  or 
any  other  things  that  may  be  felt  by  bodily 
sense,  though  it  be  never  so  comfortable  and 
liking,  yet  be  they  not  very  Contemplation,  but 
simple  and  secondary  ...  all  such  manner  of 
feeling  may  be  good,  wrought  by  a  good  angel, 
and  they  may  be  deceivable,  wrought  by  a 
wicked  angel."  ^ 

He  then  provides  a  test  whereby  the  devout 
person  may  decide  whether  "  such  manner  of 
feeling  "  be  good  or  bad.  If  it  prove  so 
pleasant,  so  he  warns  us,  that  "  thou  feelest 
thy  heart  drawn  from  the  minding  and  behold- 
ing of  Jesus  Christ  and  from  spiritual  exercises 
.  .  .  and  therefore  comest  to  think  that  thou 
shouldest  neither  pray  nor  think  of  anything 
else,  but  wholly  attend  thereto  for  to  keep  it 
and  delight  thyself  therein  ;  then  is  this  feeling 
very  suspicious  to  come  from  the  enemy,  and 
therefore  though  it  were  never  so  liking  and 
wonderful,  refuse  it  and  assent  not  thereto,  for 
this  is  a  sleight  of  the  enemy.  When  he 
seeth  a  soul  that  would  entirely  give  itself  to 

»  The  Scale  ofTerfection,  Bk.  I,  pt.  i,  ch.  xi. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     149 

spiritual  exercises,  he  is  wonderfully  wroth 
.  .  .  and  therefore  if  he  cannot  hinder  him  by 
open  sinning  he  will  let  and  beguile  him  by 
such  variety  of  bodily  savours  or  sweetness  in 
the  senses,  to  bring  a  soul  into  spiritual  pride 
and  into  a  false  security  of  himself."  ^  On  the 
other  hand,  he  says  if  such  feeling  as  this, 
"  let  not  thy  heart  from  spiritual  exercises, 
but  maketh  thee  more  devout,  and  more 
fervent  to  pray,  more  wise  to  think  ghostly 
thoughts  ...  by  these  tokens  mayest  thou 
know   it  is  of  God."  2 

Of  the  five  senses,  as  five  windows,  Hilton 
writes,  and  with  the  same  reference  to  Jere- 
miah as  do  Rolle  and  the  author  of  The  Cloud 
of  Unknowing  ;  3  but  he  adds  a  further  warning, 
viz.  the  necessity  of  stopping  "  up  the  privy 
holes  of  the  imaginations  of  thy  heart. "4  This 
is  a  reference  to  imagination  in  the  word's 
primary  sense — the  power  of  picturing  objects 
no  longer  present  to  sense — and  a  warning 
against  dwelling  on  such  pictures  until  desire 
for  them  rules  the  whole  man  and  his  thoughts. 

The  author  of  The  Cloud  of  Unknowing^  who 
so  frequently  adds  little  individual  touches  to 
the  main  theory  common  to  all  mystics,  though 
he  admits  the  possibility  of  sense  deception, 
insists  rather  more  explicitly  on  the  duty  which 
even  "  Brother  Ass  "  owes  to  God :  "  God  forbid 

*  ibid.  2  iijij_  3  ibid.,  Bk.  I,  pt.  iii,  ch.  ix. 

4  ibid.,  ch.  X. 


150  English  Mystics 

that  I  should  depart  ^  that  which  God  hath 
coupled,  the  body  and  the  spirit."  2  There  is 
an  apt,  sly  humour  about  this  unknown  writer 
which,  coupled  with  his  very  English  distaste 
for  an  unnecessary  fuss,  makes  him  specially 
wholesome  and  refreshing  :  "  And  of  the 
tother  comforts  and  sounds  and  sweetness, 
how  thou  shouldest  wit  whether  they  be  good 
or  evil,  I  think  not  to  tell  thee  at  this  time  : 
and  that  is  because  me  think  that  it  needeth 
not.  For  why,  thou  mayst  find  it  writ  in 
another  place  of  another  man's  work  a  thou- 
sandfold better  than  1  can  say  or  write  ;  and  so 
mayst  thou  this  that  I  set  here,  far  better  than 
it  is  here."  3 

Whoever  or  whatever  this  author  was,  he 
had  no  intention  of  helping  or  encouraging  his 
"ghostly  friend  in  God"  to  be  "scrupulous." 

Miss  Evelyn  Underhill,  in  her  introduction 
to  The  Cloud  of  Unknomng^  has  pointed  out  that 
if  it  be  true  that  its  author  introduced  into 
England  "  the  mystical  tradition  of  the  Chris- 
tian Neoplatonists,"  he  brought  at  the  same 
time  to  this  work  of  interpretation  "  deep 
personal  experience  and  extraordinary  psycho- 
logical gifts," 

Certainly  The  Cloud  of  Unknomng^  with  its 
quaintness  and  minute  ironic  touches,  is  one  of 
the  most  individual  and  singular  of  the  mystical 

'  separate.  "   The  Cloud  of  Unknowing,  z\i.  isXvm. 

3  ibid. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     151 

writings  of  the  English  fourteenth  century. 
Perhaps  its  baffling  love  of  humorous  paradox 
culminates  in  the  sixty-eighth  chapter. 

As  we  pass  down  the  subsequent  centuries, 
we  shall  find  controversy  and  polemics  too 
often  wasting  spiritual  energy,  and  occupying 
space  which  could  more  profitably  have  been 
given  to  devotion.  These  unhappy  tendencies 
fill  the  atmosphere,  and  cannot  fail  to  dull  it 
even  for  the  mystics.  After  the  Reformation, 
though  in  one  form  or  another  there  is  frequent 
reference  to  purgation  and  illumination,  the 
achievement  of  union,  and  rapturous  descrip- 
tions of  it,  grow  rarer  and  more  rare. 

The  utmost,  then,  must  be  made  of  the 
fourteenth-century's  view  of  it,  of  "  very  Con- 
templation," as  Hilton  calls  it.  It  isjust  here, 
at  the  very  heart  of  mysticism,  that  the  author 
of  The  Cloud  of  Unknowing  shows  his  quaint 
singularity.  Presently  it  will  be  seen  from 
quotations  from  other  writers  to  what  ecstasy 
Englishmen  could  rise. 

But  rapture  is  not  the  mode  of  this  un- 
known scribe  :  "And  on  the  same  manner, 
where  another  man  would  bid  thee  gather  thy 
powers  and  thy  wits  wholly  within  thyself  and 
worship  God  there,  although  he  say  full  well 
and  full  truly,  yea  !  and  no  man  trulier  an  he 
be  well  conceived — yet  for  fear  of  deceit  and 
bodily  conceiving  of  his  words  we  list  not  bid 
thee  do  so.     But  this  will  I  bid  thee.     Look 


152  English  Mystics 

on  nowise  that  thou  be  within  thyself.  And 
shortly,  without  thyself  I  will  not  that  thou 
be,  nor  yet  above,  nor  yet  behind,  nor  on 
one  side,  nor  on  other. 

"  '  Where  then  ? '  sayest  thou,  *  shall  I  be  ? 
Nowhere,  by  thy  tale.'  Now  truly,  thou 
sayest  well,  for  there  would  I  have  thee.  For 
why,  nowhere  bodily  is  everywhere  ghostly. 
Look  then  busily  that  thy  ghostly  work  be 
nowhere  bodily  ;  and  then,  wheresoever  that 
thing  is  on  the  which  thou  wilfully  workest 
in  thy  mind  in  substance,  surely  there  art  thou 
in  spirit,  as  verily  as  thy  body  is  in  that  place 
that  thou  art  bodily.  And  although  thy  bodily 
wits  can  find  thee  nothing  to  feed  them  on, 
for  them  think  it  nought  that  thou  dost,  yea  ! 
do  on  then  this  nought,  and  do  it  for  God's 
love.  .  .  .  Reck  then  never  if  thy  wits  can 
not  reason  of  this  nought.  ...  It  is  so 
worthy  a  thing  in  itself,  that  they  cannot 
reason  thereupon.  This  nought  may  better 
be  felt  than  seen.  .  .  .  What  is  he  that  calleth 
it  nought  }  Surely,  it  is  our  outer  man  and 
not  our  inner.  Our  inner  man  calleth  it  All, 
for  of  it  he  is  well  learned  to  know  the  reason 
of  all  things  bodily  or  ghostly,  without  any 
special  beholding  to  any  one  thing  by  itself."  ^ 

Out  of  this  paradoxical  medley  emerge 
two    key   propositions  :    "  nowhere     bodily    is 

^   ibid.,  ch.  Ixviii. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     153 

everywhere  ghostly,"  and  "do  on  then  this 
nought." 

It  is  idle  to  attempt  to  grade  the  saints  and 
mystics.  While  we  may  be  thankful  for  the 
plainer  counsel  of  one  man,  and  the  rapturous 
ecstasy  of  another,  this  anonymous  writer 
brings  his  special  gift,  none  the  less  costly 
because,  like  a  diamond,  it  must  be  cut  from 
a  rough  wrapping.  In  his  enigmatical  way, 
he  has  reconciled  material  and  immaterial,  he 
has  transcended  space,  and  resolved  duration 
into  now  :  and,  with  a  touch  of  Plato's  Synop- 
tikos,  he  has  caught  a  transitory  flash  of  "all 
things  together  " — "  the  only  kind  of  know- 
ledge which  is  everlasting,"  ^ 

Richard  Rolle,  in  far  clearer,  more  ordinary 
language,  approaches  this  core  of  the  mystery  : 
"  He  truly  knows  God  perfectly  that  feels 
Him  incomprehensible  and  unable  to  be 
known."  2 

In  the  eighty-first  chapter  of  her  Revelations 
Mother  Julian  writes  of  the  "  higher  behold- 
ing "  of  God,  "  which  keepeth  us  in  ghostly 
joy  and  true  enjoying  of  God,"  and  of  "  the 
lower  beholding  which  keepeth  us  in  dread 
and  maketh  us  ashamed  of  ourself,"  the  first 
of  these  being  what  Hilton  calls  "  very  Con- 
templation." 

Her    Re'^elations    stand    alone    in     English 

'    T:he  Republic,  Bk.  vii,  §  537. 
2  The  Fire  of  Love,  Bk.  I,  ch.  vi. 


154  English  Mystics 

Mystical  Literature.  As  intensely  individual 
as  The  Qloud  of  Unknowing^  even  more  amaz- 
ingly simple  and  direct,  they  are  also  truly 
apocalyptic.  They  produce  the  impression 
of  a  soul  living  so  close  to  God  that,  like 
S.  Paul  once,  she  ever  must  have  found  it 
hard  to  know  whether  she  were  "  in  the  body 
or  out  of  the  body."  In  one  passage  she 
hints  at  a  state  which,  possibly,  was  constant  in 
her  life,  viz.  a  sense  of  this  absolute  closeness 
combined  with  consciousness  of  something 
withheld  :  "  Our  Lord  God  dwelleth  now  in 
us,  and  is  here  with  us,  and  colleth  ^  us  and 
becloseth  us  for  tender  love  that  He  may 
never  leave  us,  and  is  more  near  to  us  than 
tongue  may  tell  or  heart  may  think ;  yet  may 
we  never  stint  of  mourning,  nor  of  weeping, 
nor  of  seeking,  nor  of  longing  till  when  we 
see  Him  clear  in  His  blessedful  chear,  for  in 
that  precious  sight  may  no  woe  abide  nor 
weal  fail."  ~ 

Perhaps  enough  has  now  been  said  to  make 
the  English  fourteenth-century  mystics'  view 
of  Purgation,  Illumination,  and  Union  clear. 

There  remains  one  treatise  of  such  delicate 
beauty  and  joyousness  that  it  cannot  be  passed 
over.  It  is  the  ^ong  of  tAngels^  which  Mr. 
Edmund  Gardner,  who  reprinted  Pepwell's 
sixteenth-century    translation     of    it     in      his 

'   embraceth.  '  Revelations,  ch.  Ixxi. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     155 

edition  of  The  Qell  of  Self-Kno^^ledge^  declares 
*'  can  be  assigned  with  certainty  to  Walter 
Hilton." 

Professor  Horstman,  in  his  edition  of  Rolle's 
works,  prints  two  texts  of  this  Song^  one  from 
a  Cambridge  MS.,  the  other  from  the  Thorn- 
ton MS.  at  Lincoln  ;  they  both  bear  the  title 
of  tAngeW  Song.  The  Rev.  G.  C.  Perry 
published  the  latter  among  the  Prose  Treatises 
of  Richard  Rolle  of  Hampole  ^  under  the  title  of 
The  Anehedd  of  Godd  vnith  mannis  saule.  A  few 
passages  translated  from  Horstman  will  show 
the  beauty  and  the  careful  precision  too  of  this 
brief  outpouring  of  joy  :  "  Our  Lord  comforts 
a  soul  by  angels'  songs.  But  what  that  song 
is,  it  may  not  be  described  by  any  bodily 
likeness,  for  it  is  ghostly  and  above  all  manner 
of  imagination  and  man's  reason.  It  may  be 
perceived  and  felt  in  a  soul,  but  it  may  not  be 
told.  Never-the-latter,  I  speak  thereof  to 
thee  as  I  think.  When  a  soul  is  purified  by 
the  love  of  God,  illumined  by  wisdom,  stabled 
by  the  might  of  God,  then  is  the  eye  of  the 
soul  opened  to  behold  ghostly  things,  as 
virtues,  angels,  and  holy  souls,  and  heavenly 
things.  Then  is  the  soul  able  by  cause  of 
cleanness  to  feel  the  touching,  the  speaking 
of  good  angels.  This  touching  and  speaking 
is  ghostly,  not  bodily."  ^ 

'  Early  English  Text  Society,  No.  20. 

*  Rendered  in  The  Q^ll  of  Self-Knowledge,  pp.  66-7. 


156  English  Mystics 

Then  Hilton,  if  indeed  it  be  his,  proceeds 
to  make  his  account  more  definite  and  precise  ; 
and  to  warn  his  hearers  not  to  convert  a  pro- 
position simply,  and  to  realize  that  conditions 
may  seem  to  be  present,  and  yet  that  the 
expected  consequences  do  not  follow  :  "  A 
soul  may  not  hear  except  by  ravishing  of  love, 
and  needs  to  be  purified  full  clean,  and  full- 
filled  of  much  charity  ere  it  were  able  for  to 
hear  heavenly  sounds.  For  the  sovereign 
and  the  essential  joy  is  in  the  love  of  God  by 
Himself  and  for  Himself;  and  the  second  is 
in  community  with  and  beholding  of  angels 
and  ghostly  creatures.  .  .  .  Now  then  mc- 
thinks  that  no  soul  can  feel  truly  angels'  songs 
nor  heavenly  sounds  unless  it  be  in  perfect 
charity.  But  not  therefore  have  all  who  are 
in  perfect  charity  felt  it,  but  only  that  soul 
that  is  purified  in  the  fire  of  the  love  of  God, 
so  that  all  earthly  savour  is  burnt  out  of  it, 
and  all  means  hindering  betwixt  the  soul  and 
the  angels'  cleanness  are  broken  and  put  away 
from  it."  I 

Then  returns  the  fear  of  mistake,  self-decep- 
tion, the  snare  dreaded  by  all  true  mystics,^ 
although  disbelievers  in  mysticism  appear 
sometimes  to  imagine  that  no  mystic  has  ever 
dreamed   of  such   a    possibility  :  "  Some   man 

'  cf.  The  Cell  of  ^elf-Knovf ledge,  pp.  67-8. 
"  cf.  Des  (graces  cTOraison  par  le  Rev.  P^re  Aug.  Poulain, 
pt.  iv,  ch.  xxi. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     157 

when  he  has  long  travailed  bodily  and  ghostly 
in  destroying  sins  and  getting  virtues,  and 
peradventure  has  gotten  by  grace  some  bit  of 
rest  and  clarity  in  conscience,  at  once  he  leaves 
prayers,  readings  of  Holy  Writ,  and  medita- 
tions on  the  Passion  of  Christ,  and  the  remem- 
brance of  his  own  wretchedness,  and  ere  he  be 
called  of  God  he  gathers  his  wits  by  violence 
to  seek  and  behold  heavenly  things  ere  his 
eye  be  made  ghostly  by  grace,  and  over  travails 
his  wits  by  imaginations,  and  by  indiscreet 
travailing  turns  the  brains  in  his  head  and 
breaks  to  pieces  the  powers  and  the  wits  of 
the  soul  and  of  the  body  ;  and  then  for  feeble- 
ness of  the  brain  he  thinks  to  hear  wonderful 
sounds  and  songs,  and  that  is  nothing  else  but 
phantasy  caused  by  trouble  of  the  brain,  as 
a  man  who  is  in  a  frenzy  thinks  to  himself 
that  he  hears  and  sees  what  no  other  man 
does  ;  all  is  but  vanity  and  phantasy  of  the 
head  ;  or  else  by  working  of  the  enemy  who 
feigns  such  sounds."  ' 

With  all  its  apparatus  of  terminology  and 
nomenclature,  modern  psychology  has  not,  in 
this  matter,  penetrated  much  further  than 
the  fourteenth  century.  Nor  is  the  above 
a  solitary  example.  The  author  of  The  Cloud 
of  Unf^owing  is  hardly  less  insistent  :  "  Here 
may  men  shortly  conceive  the  manner  of  this 

^  cf.  The  Cell  of  Self-Knowledge,  pp.  68-9. 


158  English  Mystics 

working  and  clearly  know  that  it  is  far  from 
any  fantasy  or  any  false  imagination  or  any 
quaint  deceit.  .  .  .  Whoso  heareth  this  work 
either  be  read  or  spoken  of  and  weeneth  that 
it  may,  or  should,  be  come  to  by  travail  in  their 
wits,  and  therefore  they  sit  and  seek  in  their 
wits  how  that  it  may  be,  and  in  this  curiosity 
they  travail  their  imagination  peradventure 
against  the  course  of  nature,  and  they  feign 
a  manner  of  working  the  which  is  neither 
bodily  nor  ghostly — truly  this  man,  whatso- 
ever he  be,  is  perilously  deceived.  Insomuch 
that  unless  God  of  His  great  goodness  show 
His  merciful  miracle  and  make  him  soon  to 
leave  work,  and  meek  him  to  counsel  of  proved 
workers,  he  shall  fall  either  into  frenzies,  or 
else  into  other  great  mischiefs  of  ghostly  sins 
and  devil's  deceits  ;  through  the  which  he 
may  lightly  be  lost,  both  life  and  soul,  with- 
out any  end.  And  therefore,  for  God's  love 
be  wary  in  this  work,  and  travail  not  in  thy 
wits,  nor  in  thy  imagination  on  nowise  ;  for 
I  tell  thee  truly  that  it  may  not  be  come  to  by 
travail  in  them,  and  therefore  leave  them  and 
work  not  with  them."  ^ 

Those  familiar  with  S.  Teresa's  Autobiography 
will  remember  the  emphasis  with  which  she 
declares  that  the  soul  is  and  can  be  illumined 
only    when    and    for    as    long    as    God    wills, 

'   The  Cloud  ofUnknomng,  ch.  iv. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     159 

and  that  no  human  effort  can  prolong  such 
visitations  nor  summon  them  at  will.^  It  is 
strange  that,  in  face  of  such  and  so  often 
reiterated  statements,  charges  of  self-decep- 
tion, of  undisciplined  imagination,  of  the 
dangers  of  empty  drifting,  of  sickly  emotion 
should  have  been  launched  constantly  against 
mystics,  yet  so  it  is  :  "  For  many,  mysticism 
means  simply  an  abandonment  of  all  attempt 
to  reconcile  '  the  relis^ious  sentiment '  with 
intelligent  thought,  a  deliberate  yielding  one's 
self  a  prey  to  any  unchecked  and  unverifiable 
fancy  or  speculation  which  seems  to  inter- 
pret the  vague  yearnings  of  the  soul  after 
God."  2  Father  Tyrrell,  when  he  wrote  that, 
was  not  exaggerating.  Yet,  how  could  any 
mystic  utter  more  explicit  warnings  than  those 
I  have  just  quoted,  or  than  this  which  closely 
follows  the  first  of  them  .'' — "  And  therefore, 
if  thou  see  any  man  ghostly  occupied  fall  into 
any  of  these  sins  and  these  deceits,  or  in 
frenzies,  wit  thou  well  that  he  never  heard 
nor  felt  angels'  songs,  nor  heavenly  sounds. 
For  soothly,  he  that  truly  hears  angels'  songs, 
he  is  made  so  wise  that  he  shall  never  err  by 
phantasy,  nor  by  indiscretion,  nor  by  any 
sleight  of  the  devil."  3 

'  Autobiography  of  S.  Teresa,  ch.  xxxix. 
^  George    Tyrrell,   S.J.,   Faith   of  the    iMillions,    vol.    i, 
p.  279. 

3  cf.  The  CellofSelf-Knotvledge,  p.  70. 


i6o  English  Mystics 

Then  Hilton  utters  one  last  warning,  pro- 
vides one  final  test  :  "  For  wit  thou  well  that 
a  naked  remembrance  or  a  naked  imagination 
of  Jesus,  or  of  any  ghostly  thing,  without 
sweetness  of  love  in  the  affection,  or  without 
light  of  knowing  in  the  reason,  is  but  a 
blindness  and  a  way  to  deceit,  if  a  man  hold 
it  in  his  own  sight  more  than  it  is.  There- 
fore, I  hold  it  surer  that  he  be  meek  in  his 
own  feeling,  and  hold  not  this  remembrance 
in  regard  till  by  custom  and  using  of  his 
mind  he  may  feel  the  fire  of  love  in  his 
affection,  and  the  light  of  knowing  in  his 
reason."  i 

Perhaps  the  sensitiveness,  the  painful  quick- 
ness of  feeling  which  brought  to  Rolle  so  many 
a  sad  and  even  agonizing  hour,  made  him,  at 
the  other  end  of  the  scale,  the  most  rapturous 
of  our  mystics.  He  may  never  attain  the 
confident  serenity  of  Mother  Julian,  who 
seemed  able  to  rise  above  emotional  fear  and 
intellectual  perplexity  to  some  unstirred  region 
of  perpetual  peace  ;  but  in  his  hours  of  attain- 
ment he  touches  a  bliss  of  that  intensity  which 
is  only  possible,  perhaps,  to  one  as  capable  as 
he  of  the  liveliest  suffering  :  "  The  singer  is 
led  into  all  mirth,  and,  the  well  of  endless  heat 
breaking  forth  in  mirth,  he  is  received  into 
halsing  ~   and   singular   solace,   and   the    lover 

*  cf.  ibid.,  p.  72.  ^  embrace,  or  kiss. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     i6i 

is  arrayed  with  the  might  of  the  most  lovely 
passage  ^  and  refreshed  in  sweet  heat. 

"  He  joys,  truly  glistening  whiter  than  snow 
and  redder  than  a  rose  ;  for  he  is  kindled  by 
God's  fire,  and  going  with  clearness  of  con- 
science he  is  clad  in  white.  Therefore  he  is 
taken  up  thereto  above  all  others  :  for  in  his 
mind  melody  abides,  and  sweet  plenty  of  heat 
tarries."  2 

Again  he  writes  :  "  Worldly  lovers  may 
soothly  know  the  words  or  ditties  of  our  song 
(but  not  the  music  of  our  songs)  ;  for  they 
read  the  words,  but  they  cannot  learn  the  notes 
and  tone  and  sweetness  of  the  song."  3 

This  may  not  have  the  ineffable  quint- 
essential rapture  say  of  Rolle's  Flemish 
contemporary,  Ruysbroeck  I'Admirable  :  "  En 
jouissant,  nous  sommes  oisifs  ;  car  Dieu 
opere  seul  lorsqu'il  ravit  hors  d'eux-m^mes 
tous  les  esprits  aimants,  les  transforme  et  les 
consomme  dans  I'unit^  de  son  Esprit.  La, 
nous  sommes  tous  un  seul  feu  d'amour,  ce  qui 
est  plus  grand  que  tout  ce  que  Dieu  a  jamais 
fait.  Chaque  esprit  est  un  charbon  ardent, 
que  Dieu  a  allume  dans  le  feu  de  son  amour 
infini.  Et  tous  ensemble  nous  sommes  un 
brasier  enflamm6,  qui  ne  peut  plus  jamais  dtre 
eteint,  avec  le  Pere  et  le  Fils,  dans  I'union 
du  Saint-Esprit,  la  ou  les   divines    personnes 

^    perhaps  passage  of  contemplation. 
2  Fire  of  Loye,  Bk.  II,  ch.  iv.  3  ibid.,  ch.  xii. 

M 


1 62  English  Mystics 

sont  ravies  elles-memes  dans  I'unite  de  leur 
essence,  au  sein  de  cet  abime  sans  fond  de  la 
beatitude  la  plus  simple."  ^ 

Possibly  human  language  cannot  reach 
higher  or  refine  itself  further  than  in  this 
passage  ;  possibly  the  Flemish  temperament  is 
unique  ;  but  I  think  it  would  be  hard  to  find 
in  English  a  finer  fervour  than  Rolle's,  or  a 
more  child-like  trusting  sense  of  indescribable 
ioy  than  his  in  his  rare  moments  of  attainment. 

I  said  on  a  former  page  that  perhaps  no 
other  English  writer  comes  so  near  to  S.  John 
of  the  Cross  as  the  author  of  The  Cloud  of 
Unknowing,  the  distinctive  mark  of  the  great 
Spaniard  being,  as  every  student  of  mysticism 
knows,  his  insistence  on  that  mysterious  con- 
dition which  he  calls  the  Dark  Night  of  the 
Soul,  distinguishing  as  he  did  the  Night  of 
Sense  from  the  Night  of  Spirit.  The  salient 
marks  of  the  first  are  aridity  of  thought  and 
feeling,  a  total  inability  to  concentrate  upon 
anything,  to  meditate  or  reflect,  combined  with 
a  remembrance  of  God,  a  longing  desire  for 
restoration  to  communion  with  Him  ;  the 
whole  mingled  state  being  beyond  the  control 
— to  initiate,  to  continue,  or  to  conclude — of 
the  human  will. 

"  There  is  therefore,"  he  writes,  "  a  great 

'  LesSept  Degres  cfjlmour  Spirituel,  Traduction  du  Flamand 
par  les  Benedictins  de  Saint-Paul  de  Wisques.  GEuvres  de 
Ruysbroeck  I'Admirable,  19 12,  vol.  i,  p.  289. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages      163 

difference  between  dryness  and  lukewarmness, 
for  the  latter  consists  in  great  remissness  and 
weakness  of  will  and  spirit,  in  the  want  of  all 
solicitude  about  serving  God.  The  true  pur- 
gative aridity  is  accompanied  in  general  by 
a  painful  anxiety,  because  the  soul  thinks  it  is 
not  serving  God."  ^  He  explains  the  purpose 
of  the  Night  of  Sense  thus  :  "  God  leads  these 
persons  into  the  night  only  to  try  to  humble 
them,  and  to  correct  their  desires,  that  they 
may  not  grow  up  spiritual  gluttons,  and  not 
for  the  purpose  of  leading  them  into  the  way 
of  the  Spirit,  which  is  Contemplation."  2 

Two  more  quotations  may  perhaps  throw 
light  on  this  difficult  and  mysterious  subject  : 
"The  first  night,  or  sensual  purgation,  wherein 
the  soul  is  purified  or  detached,  will  be  of  the 
senses,  subjecting  them  to  the  Spirit.  .  .  .  The 
Night  of  Sense  is  common,  and  the  lot  of 
many  :  these  are  the  beginners."  3 

"  The  other  is  that  night,  or  spiritual  pur- 
gation, wherein  the  soul  is  purified  and  detached 
in  the  Spirit,  and  which  subdues  and  disposes 
it  for  union  with  God  in  love.  .  .  .  The  spiritual 
night  is  the  portion  of  very  few,  and  they  are 
those  who  have  made  some  progress."  4 

The  whole  of  the  first  and  fifth  chapters  of 
the  second  book  are  devoted  to  explaining  the 

^  Ue  "Dark  tKight  of  the  Soul,  Bk.  I,  ch.  ix,  §  4  ;  cf.  also 
§§  2,  3,  6,  8,  and  1 1. 

^  ibid.,  §  13.  3  ch.  viii,  §1.  4  ibid. 


164  English  Mystics 

nature  of  the  Night  of  the  Spirit.  S.  John 
of  the  Cross,  in  this  fifth  chapter,  writes  : 
"  The  dark  night  is  a  certain  inflowing  of 
God  into  the  Soul,  which  cleanses  it  of  its 
ignorances  and  imperfections,  habitual,  natural, 
and  spiritual." 

He  goes  on  to  expound  that  this  Night 
of  Spirit  brings  not  obscurity  but  pain  and 
torment  ;  and  then,  in  a  beautiful  passage,  he 
sets  forth  this  night's  two-sided  nature,  which 
is  at  once,  no  matter  how  great  the  contradic- 
tion may  seem,  light  and  darkness,  or  rather 
darkness  as  the  effect  of  transcendent  light  : 
"  The  more  clear  the  light,  the  more  does  it 
blind  the  eyes  of  the  owl,  and  the  stronger  the 
sun's  rays  the  more  it  blinds  the  visual  organs. 
...  So  the  divine  light  of  contemplation  when 
it  beats  on  the  soul,  not  yet  perfectly  enlight- 
ened, causes  spiritual  darkness.  .  .  . 

"  It  is  for  this  reason  that  S.  Dionysius  and 
other  mystic  theologians  call  infused  contem- 
plation a  ray  of  darkness,  that  is  for  the 
unenlightened  and  unpurified  soul,  because 
this  great  supernatural  light  masters  the  natural 
power  of  the  reason,  and  takes  away  its  natural 
way  of  understanding."  i 

The  logical  mind  of  the  Latin  races,  and  the 
capacity  for  abstraction  and  detachment  which 
we    find    in    such  typical  Flemish  thinkers  as 

'  Bk.  II,  ch.  X,  §§  3,  4. 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages      165 

Ruysbroeck  and  certain  Brothers  of  the  Com- 
mon Life,  cannot  but  pursue  mysticism  into 
its  philosophical  fastnesses.  For  the  most 
part,  practical  Englishmen  leave  the  mysteries 
of  origins  on  one  side.  As  a  rule,  they  will 
accept  facts,  experience  ;  indeed,  if  acceptance 
do  not  involve  an  admission  of  final  defeat, 
since  passing  blunders  and  wasteful  experi- 
ments by  the  way  disconcert  them  strangely 
little,  their  predilection  is  almost  always,  not 
for  giving  or  taking  reasons,  not  for  laying 
down  principles,  not  for  drawing  irrefragable 
conclusions.  Though  it  was  a  Frenchman  who 
suggested  it,i  they  really  believe  that  the 
heart  has  a  just  claim  to  the  first  place,  and 
that  conduct  cannot  be  subordinated  entirely 
to  reason  or  logic.  It  is  not  a  necessary  but 
it  is  a  common  English  conclusion  that  if  this 
be  so,  the  need  for  searching  into  the  reason 
of  everything  and  of  explicating  all  manner 
of  possibilities  is  not  supremely  pressing  nor 
vital. 

The  author  of  The  Cloud  of  Unknowing  does 
not,  however,  fall  into  the  general  English 
category.  While  his  identity  is  unknown,  it 
can  hardly  be  doubted  that  he  was  a  student  of 
S.  Dionysius  ;  probably  that  study  was  at  once 
the  outcome  of  an  unusual  philosophical  ten- 

'  "  La  raison  ne  connait  par  les  interets  du  coeur." 
"  Les  grandes  pensees  viennent  du  coeur." 

Vauvenargues'  Maxlmes. 


1 66  English  Mystics 

dency,  and  the  cause  of  its  further  development. 
However  that  may  be,  it  seems  sometimes  to 
remove  him  somewhat  from  the  direct  line  of 
English  mystical  thought  ;  and  very  possibly 
S.  Dionysius'  teaching,  that  infused  contempla- 
tion is  a  ray  of  darkness,  may  partly  account 
for  his  title,  The  Cloud  of  Unknowing,  and  for 
some  part  of  the  matter  which  it  covers. 
Yet,  it  is  only  a  small  part,  for  the  most  casual 
reader  will  easily  detect  the  difference  between 
his  standpoint  and  that  of  S.  John  of  the  Cross, 
who  agreed  constantly  with  S.  Dionysius.  The 
pain  which  is  so  habitually  present  to  S.  John 
of  the  Cross  in  all  which  he  writes  about  the 
Dark  Night  is  absent  from  The  Cloud  of  Unkno'W- 
ing,  which  is  a  cloud  affecting  the  intellect,  the 
understanding,  not  the  senses  and  the  soul. 
In  two  passages  this  writer  makes  as  clear  as 
words  can  the  nature  of  the  cloud  :  "  Lift  up 
thine  heart  to  God.  .  .  .  And  do  that  in  thee 
is  to  forget  all  the  creatures  that  ever  God 
made  and  the  works  of  them.  .  .  .  This  is  the 
work  of  the  soul  that  most  pleaseth  God.  .  .  . 
At  the  first  time  when  thou  dost  it,  thou 
findest  but  a  darkness  ;  and  as  it  were  a  cloud 
of  unknowing,  thou  knowest  not  what,  saving 
that  thou  feelest  in  thy  will  a  naked  intent 
unto  God.  This  darkness  and  this  cloud  is, 
howsoever  thou  dost,  betwixt  thee  and  thy 
God,  and  telleth  thee  that  thou  mayest  neither 
see  Him  clearly  by  light  of  understanding   in 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages      167 

thy  reason,  nor  feel  Him  in  sweetness  of  love 
in  thine  affection.  And  therefore  shape  thee 
to  bide  in  this  darkness  as  long  as  thou  mayest, 
evermore  crying  after  Him  that  thou  lovest. 
.  .  .  And  if  thou  wilt  busily  travail  as  I  bid 
thee,  I  trust  in  His  mercy  thou  shalt  come 
thereto."  ^ 

The  second  passage  elaborates  the  idea  of 
this  cloud  :  "  Ween  not,  for  I  call  it  a  dark- 
ness or  a  cloud,  that  it  be  any  cloud  congealed 
of  the  humours  that  flee  in  the  air,  nor  yet  any 
darkness  such  as  is  in  thine  house  on  nights 
when  the  candle  is  out.  .  .  .  For  when  I  say 
darkness,  I  mean  a  lacking  of  knowing  :  as  all 
that  thing  that  thou  knowest  not,  or  else  that 
thou  hast  forgotten,  it  is  dark  to  thee  ;  tor 
thou  seest  it  not  with  thy  ghostly  eye.  And 
for  this  reason  it  is  not  called  a  cloud  of  the 
air,  but  a  cloud  of  unknowing,  that  is  betwixt 
thee  and  thy  God."  2 

These  two  passages  show  that  the  cloud  is 
one  which  obstructs  understanding.  But  the 
first  of  them  suggests  two  further  important 
points  :  one,  that  the  soul  must  "  busily 
travail "  ;  and  secondly  it  indicates  that 
this  "  travail "  is  not  what  is  generally  meant 
by  activity,  that  undisciplined  energy  which 
Rolle  calls,  and  condemns  as,  "raking  about," 
but  is  "  a  naked  intent  "  in  the  will. 

'  The  Cloud  of  Unknomng,  ch.  iii.  '  ibid.,  ch.  iv. 


1 68  English  Mystics 

This  matter  is  cleared  up  almost  directly 
when  the  writer  speaks  of  the  two  "powers" 
possessed  by  all  "  reasonable  creatures,  angel 
and  man,"  and  differentiates  their  quality  and 
scope  :  "  To  the  first,  which  is  a  knowledge- 
able power,  God  that  is  the  Maker  of  them 
is  evermore  incomprehensible  ;  and  to  the 
second,  which  is  the  loving  power,  in  each 
one  diversely,  He  is  all  comprehensible  to 
the  full."  I 

Herein  is  the  "  travail  to  love,"  or  at  least 
here  is  part,  that  before  "  love  can  have  its 
perfect  work,"  there  is  the  long,  searching  toil 
of  "  meeking  us"  :  "Therefore  swink  and 
sweat  in  all  that  thou  canst  or  mayst,  for  to 
get  thee  a  true  knowing  and  a  feeling  of  thy- 
self as  thou  art  ;  and  then  I  trow  that  soon 
after  that  thou  shalt  have  a  true  knowing 
and  a  feeling  of  God  as  He  is."  2 

Probably  S.  John  of  the  Cross  would  here 
have  interpolated  some  warning  on  the  Dark 
Night,  but  the  author  of  The  Cloud  of  Unknow- 
ing leaves  to  our  various  powers  of  imagination 
the  pain  of  seeing  ourselves  "as  we  are,"  and 
presses  on  hot-foot  to  the  goal  of  knowing 
God  as  He  is. 

What,  then,  can  pierce  this  cloud  }  Not  in- 
telligence, for  he  has  said  explicitly,  "  Be  thou 
sure  that  clear  sight  shall  never  man  have  in 

'  ibid.  *  ch.  xiv. 


i 


The  Mystic  Way  in  the  Middle  Ages      169 

this  life."  ^  If  not  intelligence,  what  ?  Lo')>e. 
"  Love  may  reach  to  God  in  this  life,  but  not 
knowing."  -  Therefore  rings  out  this  short, 
sharp  order  :  "  Beat  evermore  on  this  cloud  of 
unknowing  that  is  betwixt  thee  and  thy  God, 
with  a  sharp  dart  of  longing  love."  3 

An  Epistle  of  Discretion  contains  some  similar 
passages  :  "  He  may  not  be  known  by  reason, 
He  may  not  be  gotten  by  thought,  nor  con- 
cluded by  understanding,  but  He  may  be  loved 
and  chosen  with  the  true  lovely  will  of  thine 
heart."  4 

And  again  :  "  Such  a  blind  shot  with  the 
sharp  dart  of  longing  love  may  never  fail  of 
the  prick,  the  which  is  God,  as  Himself  saith 
in  the  Book  of  Love  when  He  speaketh  to 
a  languishing  soul  and  a  loving,  saying  thus  :  S 
'  Vulnerasti  cor  meum  sorer  mea^  arnica  mea^  et 
sponsa  mea,  vulnerasti  cor  meum^  in  uno  oculorum 
tuorum.'  "6 

In  the  different  treatises  usually  assigned  to 
him  by  scholars  this  unknown  author  goes 
over  and  over  the  ground,  viewing  the  matter 
from  this  angle  and  from  that ;  but  the  core 
of  his  teaching  is  contained  in  the  passages 
already  quoted  here.  It  is  quite  impossible 
to  gain  thorough  knowledge  of  the  mystical 
writings     of    the     fourteenth     century    from 

^  ch.  ix.  ^  ch.  viii.  3  ch.  xii. 

4  TheCellofSelf-K^oyyledge,}^.  107. 

5  Canticles  iv.  9.       ^  The  Cell  of  Self-Knovf ledge,  p.  108. 


lyo  English  Mystics 

extracts.  To  remove,  in  some  slight  measure, 
the  inadequacy  of  this  attempted  account, 
I  will  add  just  two  more.  The  first  is  a  really 
typical  example  of  the  droll  humour  which 
Englishmen  did  not  find  incongruous  even  in 
the  very  sacredest  places  of  devotion,  a  char- 
acteristic less  common  in  mystics  of  other 
races — S.  Teresa's  wit  and  sense  of  fun,  utterly 
irrepressible  as  they  were,  excepting  her  from 
this  generalization — one  which  too  many  Eng- 
lish people  seem  to  have  mislaid  to-day.  Yet 
even  S.  Teresa  would  have  expressed  this 
differently  :  "  Some  men  are  so  cumbered  in 
nice  curious  customs  in  bodily  bearing,  that 
when  they  shall  ought  hear,  they  writhe  their 
heads  on  one  side  quaintly,  and  up  with  the 
chin  :  they  gape  with  their  mouths  as  they 
should  hear  with  their  mouth  and  not  with 
their  ears."  ^ 

Lastly,  as  an  example  of  highly-developed 
literary  skill  and  poetic  imagination  in  striking 
contrast  to  the  grotesque  picturesqueness  of 
the  above  picture,  drawn  as  that  so  evidently  is 
from  some  familiar  individual,  I  would  direct 
attention  to  a  passage  in  tAn  Epistle  of  T)is- 
cretion^  one  of  singular  beauty  and  faultless 
suggestion  :  "  For  1  knew  never  yet  no  sinner 
that  might  come  to  the  perfect  knowing  of 
himself  and  of  his  inward  disposition,  but  if  he 

'   The  Cloud  ofUnknozving,  p.  241. 


The  Mystic   Way  in  the  Middle  Ages     171 

were  learned  of  it  before  in  the  school  of  God, 
by  experience  of  many  temptations,  and  by 
many  fallings  and  risings  ;  for  right  as  among 
the  waves  and  the  floods  and  the  storms  of  the 
sea  on  the  one  party,  and  the  peaceable  wind 
and  the  calm  and  the  soft  weather  of  the  air 
on  the  other  party,  the  sely^  ship  at  the  last 
attains  to  the  land  and  the  haven,  right  so 
among  the  diversity  of  temptations  and  tribu- 
lations that  falleth  to  a  soul  in  this  ebbing 
and  flowing  life  (the  which  are  ensampled  by 
the  storm  and  the  floods  of  the  sea)  on  the 
one  party,  and  among  the  grace  and  the  good- 
ness of  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  manifold  visita- 
tion, sweetness,  and  comfort  of  spirit  (the 
which  are  ensampled  by  the  peaceable  wind 
and  the  soft  weather  of  the  air)  on  the  other 
party,  the  sely  soul,  at  the  likeness  of  a  ship, 
attaineth  at  the  last  to  the  land  of  stableness, 
and  to  the  haven  of  health,  the  which  is  the 
clear  and  soothfast  knowing  of  himself  and  of 
all  his  inward  dispositions,  through  the  which 
knowing  he  sitteth  quietly  in  himself,  as  a  king 
crowned  in  his  royalme  mightily,  wisely,  and 
goodly  governing  himself  and  all  his  thoughts 
and  stirrings,  both  in  body  and  soul.''  2 

^  happy,  good,  innocent. 

'^  An   Epistle   of  Discretion,   p.  97   of  The  Cell  of  Self- 
Knowledge. 


CHAPTER  IV 

English  Mystics  of  the  Seventeenth 
Century 

IF  any  one  desire  to  realize  the  peculiar 
savour  of  the  English  Mystics  of  the 
fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries,  he  may 
do  so  by  way  of  contrast  (and  that  is  not 
altogether  a  bad  method),  if  he  will  read  Rolle's 
writings  or  The  Cloud  of  JJyiknowing  alongside 
of  such  a  contemporary  work  as  The  TDivine 
Soliloguies  of  Gerlac  Petersen.  In  this  latter  he 
will  find  a  similar  profound  reality  and  simple 
directness,  but  he  will  not  find  that  delightfully 
quaint  humour  which  seems  to  be  embedded 
in  the  English  nature,  and  which,  even  now, 
after  generations  of  empire-building,  money- 
making,  industrial  strife,  and  general  sophis- 
tication, still  lingers  in  all  classes,  and  not 
least  in  those  whose  occupation  brings  them 
nearest  to  "  natural  "  things  ;  those,  for 
instance,  who  are  sailors,  agriculturists  of  all 
sorts,  as  well  as  those  artisans  who  "  get 
out"  or  work  up  raw  materials,  for — 

the  old  enchantment  lingers  in  the  honey  heart  of  earth. 

As   I   have  tried   to  show,  right  away  back 
172 


English  Mystics  of  the  Seventeenth  Century    173 

in  the  beginnings  of  our  national  life  the  love 
of  outdoor  things,  of  all  primitive  natural 
forces,  of  animals  and  of  the  rest  of  the 
creatures,  of  sea  and  forest  and  mountain  was 
indigenous  in  this  mixed,  strange  race  of  the 
English.  Often  that  love  flowered  in  a 
homely,  whimsical  fun  which  irradiated  every- 
day life,  and  was  not  afraid  to  touch  holy 
things  and  even  to  invade  the  sanctuary. 

When  we  come  to  the  seventeenth  century, 
an  age  not  less  remarkable — one  whose  peculiar 
fragrance,  whose  gentle,  urbane  serenity, 
surviving  all  controversies,  all  insubordinate 
questionings,  all  brutal  force,  all  unkindly 
tyranny,  can  never  lose  its  charm  nor  its 
appeal — we,  none  the  less,  are  conscious  that 
an  unbridged  abyss  lies  between  it  and  the 
earlier  "  centuries  of  faith."  Intellectual 
scepticism,  at  first  half  shy  and  later  even 
flaunting  itself,  has  arrived  :  le  moyen  age, 
enorme  et  d^licat,  has  so  entirely  vanished  that 
no  magic  skill  can  restore  it.  The  claim  of 
the  Western  Church,  which,  though  from 
time  to  time  challenged  for  this  failure  or 
that,  still  contrived,  while  she  cared  more 
for  men's  souls  than  for  temporalities,  to  hold 
firm  and  retain  the  final  supremacy  in  faith 
and  morals,  had,  by  the  seventeenth  century, 
lost  through  unhappy  divisions  that  super- 
natural, wholly  authoritative  appeal  which  had 
made    her    the    ark    of    civilization,   and    the 


174  English  Mystics 

protector  and  counsellor  of  the  turbulent 
races  of  men  in  those  stormy  six  centuries 
following  the  fall  of  Rome's  Imperial  power, 
which  made  her  the  Mother  of  all,  small  and 
great,  wise  and  simple,  in  the  unmatched  days 
of  the  cathedral  builders  and  of  the  great 
religious  orders. 

The  Middle  Ages,  like  every  other  period, 
sinned  ;  but  they  were  never  "dark  "  as  some 
men  have  chosen  to  style  them.  Always 
somewhere — in  Italy,  in  a  corner  of  Gaul,  in 
peaceful  Ireland  sundered  by  the  sea  from 
tempestuous  Europe,  in  Wessex,  in  York,  on 
the  banks  of  Tyne  and  Wear,  in  some  remote 
haunt  in  Germany,  in  Seville — the  torch  of 
learning  burned  on,  and,  as  circumstances 
obliged,  was  handed  from  one  to  another  in 
the  time-long  human  race  after  light  and  truth. 
Learning  shone  through  those  centuries  like 
a  candle  "  in  a  naughty  world  "  ;  and  it  was 
of  them  that  Newman  was  thinking  when  he 
declared  that  men  who  speak  against  the 
Church  owe  it  to  the  Church  that  they  can 
speak  at  all. 

Long  before  the  seventeenth  century  Europe 
had  ceased  to  be  even  in  theory  one  :  the 
dream  of  the  dually-ruled  empire  had  passed 
into  the  reality  of  a  congeries  of  nations,  and 
in  Italy  of  small  states,  all,  without  or  with 
provocation,  flying,  or  ready  to  fly,  at  each 
other's  throats. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Seventeenth  Century    175 

At  the  back  of  the  new  sceptical,  questioning 
outlook  and  practice,  and,  in  one  way  or 
another,  mainly  responsible  for  it,  lay  the  great 
fermenting  fact  of  the  Renaissance.  In  all 
human  probability  modern  Europe  owes  it  to 
the  Church  that  the  classics  survive  :  the  tale 
of  the  rescue  of  Quintilian's  Institutes  by 
Poggio  Bracciolini,  from — the  description  is 
his — "  a  most  foul  and  obscure  dungeon  at  the 
very  bottom  of  a  tower,  a  place  into  which 
condemned  criminals  would  hardly  have  been 
thrust,"  I  in  the  Monastery  of  S.  Gallen,  in 
1414,  is  by  no  means  a  solitary  instance  ot  the 
peril  which  great  books  ran  of  final  destruc- 
tion. 

Little,  indeed,  must  the  tiny  band  of 
scholars  at  the  end  of  the  fourteenth  and 
beginning  of  the  fifteenth  centuries  in  Italy, 
(men  whose  names  cannot  perish  while  any 
one  cares  for  true  learning),  have  dreamed 
that  the  classics  which  they  drew  forth,  here 
from  the  care,  there  from  the  occasional 
neglect  of  sheltering  monasteries,  would  so 
soon  be  misused  ;  that  a  generation  would 
arise,  pedantic,  mercenary,  materialist,  whose 
aim  would  be  to  strip  and  rob  the  Church, 
forgetful  or  defiant  of  the  fact  that  it  was 
after  all  she  who  had  preserved  the  ancient 
world's    most    vital    treasures.       As    the  new 

^  Muratori  xx.  i6o.  Quoted  by  J.  A.  Symonds,  ^^-w*?//- 
sance  in  Italy,  vol.  ii,  ch.  iii. 


176  English  Mystics 

movement  gathered  force,  spreading  to  Hol- 
land, England,  France,  Switzerland,  and  parts 
of  Germany,  perhaps  only  Erasmus  and 
Thomas  More  really  grasped  the  possibility 
hidden  in  the  heart  of  the  future  :  and 
Erasmus  had  not  the  temperament  nor  More 
the  opportunity  to  stem  the  rising  torrent  of 
materialism  backed  by  the  New  Learning. 

When  people  rave  against  the  moral  corrup- 
tion of  this  or  that  highly-placed  Churchman 
they  might  spare  a  moment's  reflection  on  the 
perils  of  highly  cultivated  but  cynical  and  not 
quite  genuine  paganism.  No  one  will  deny 
the  iniquities  of  Alexander  VI ;  but  it  is  a  nice 
problem  whether  such  a  man  or  a  Leo  X  does 
the  more  damaging  and  lasting  harm  to  re- 
ligion, morals,  and  the  ordinary  sanctities, 
decencies  and  pieties  of  every-day  life.  Per- 
haps too  much  is  too  lightly  forgiven  to  the 
learned  and  the  scientific  :  the  infidelities  of 
the  mind  may  be  the  most  fatal,  if  the  proverb 
corruptio  optimi  pessima  est  be  really  true. 

Anyhow,  by  1600  Western  Europe  had 
grown  unfortunately  accustomed,  hardened 
even,  to  religious  divisions,  to  national  rival- 
ries, to  self  interest  raised  to  the  level  of  a 
creed,  to  class  bitterness,  to  toleration  of  the 
crippling  poverty  of  great  masses  of  the  race. 
Nisard,  writing  of  Erasmus,  had  said  there 
was  "  no  quiet  place,  no  asylum  in  Europe 
where    a    man    could  retire  and  feel   alive "  ; 


English  Mystics  of  the  Seventeenth   Century    177 

in  every  country  public  life  was  all  noise, 
division,  violence,  chaos.  England,  to  a 
considerable  extent,  shared  the  fortunes  of 
the  Continent,  for  she  had  moved  a  long  way 
since  the  days  when  Tacitus  could  describe 
this  country  as  an  island  in  the  stormy  northern 
ocean  beyond  which  there  is  nothing.  Eng- 
land, for  good  or  for  evil,  had  entered  the 
troubled  sphere  of  European  politics,  and  in 
her  own  small  compass  she  reflected  the 
religious  and  other  divisions  of  that  bigger 
world  in  which  she  had  now  become  an 
important,  and  was  presently  to  be  an  increa- 
singly dominant,  factor.  The  simplicity  of 
Rolle's  or  Mother  Julian's  environment  had 
passed  ;  moreover,  as  the  new  movement 
spread  and  grew,  the  native  tendency  towards 
excessive  individualism  was  perpetually  rein- 
forced by  the  almost  universally  prevalent 
spirit  of  self-assertion,  of  private  judgement, 
of  impatience  of  all  and  any  unquestioned 
authority. 

For  all  that,  mysticism  did  not  perish  ;  and 
though  a  divided  Church  involves  loss  which 
no  Catholic  can  deny  or  fail  to  deplore,  still  in 
seventeenth-century  England  there  sprang  up 
a  mysticism  of  singular  beauty,  both  Roman 
and  Anglo-Catholic.  Moreover,  an  honest 
student  cannot  wholly  forget  the  Protestant 
Bunyan  and  the  Quaker  George  Fox. 

A    fair    orrasp    of    the     movement     in     the 


178  English  Mystics 

seventeenth  century  may  be  gained  by  any 
one  who  will  really  trouble  to  make  acquaint- 
ance with  Father  Augustine  Baker,  Dame 
Gertrude  More,  John  Donne,  the  Earl  of  Man- 
chester, Crashaw,  Henry  Vaughan,  Thomas 
Browne,  and  Thomas  Traherne.  In  their 
several  ways,  with  the  possible  exception  of 
Vaughan,  who  was  by  descent  Welsh,  these 
are  typically  English  ;  and  in  greater  or  less 
degree,  genuine  mystics. 

Father  Baker  (i  575-1 641)  and  John  Donne 
(1573-1631)  come  nearest  to  being  life-long 
contemporaries  ;  but  the  first,  the  far  greater 
mystic,  will  ever  remain  in  memory  with  his 
spiritual  child.  Dame  Gertrude  More. 

The  loss  which  controversy  necessarily 
entails  is  perhaps  never  more  evident  than  in 
an  hour  when  we  contemplate  a  group  of  souls 
like  these.  Of  them  all,  Donne,  with  his 
enigmatic  contradictions,  may  have  suffered 
most  through  the  break  between  Rome  and 
Canterbury  ;  but  it  is  a  grievous  thing  that 
there  should  exist  a  shadow  of  separation 
between  Crashaw  and  Vaughan,  still  more 
between  such  delightful  people  as  Thomas 
Browne  and  Dame  Gertrude   More. 

Probably,  to  present-day  English  men  and 
women,  Augustine  Baker  and  Gertrude  More 
are  less  than  names.  Yet  they  are  not  only 
fundamentally,  racially,  our  very  own,  not 
only  original  and  great  souls  of  singular  merit, 


English  Mystics  of  the  Seventeenth  Century    179 

but  they  fill  a  place  in  the  story  of  English 
religious  life  extraordinarily  like  that  which  is 
occupied  in  the  roll  of  Spanish  Mystics  by 
S.  Teresa  and  her  great  director,  S.  John  of  the 
Cross. 

Father  Augustine  Baker  was  born  at  Aber- 
gavenny in  1575.  When  he  was  fifteen  he 
left  Christ's  Hospital  for  Broadgates  Hall, 
now  Pembroke  College,  Oxford.  Without 
taking  his  degree,  he  returned  home  to  study 
law.  Pulled  up  with  a  moral  jerk  by  a 
wonderful  preservation  from  a  great  danger, 
he  began  to  reflect  seriously  on  the  prob- 
lems of  life  and  death.  After  instruction 
from  Father  Floyd,  he  was  received  into  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church,  and,  throwing  up  his 
law  studies,  went  to  a  Benedictine  Monastery, 
being  eventually  clothed  in  the  Abbey  of 
S.  Justina  at  Padua. 

At  the  age  of  thirty-two  he  was  professed  in 
an  Italian  Benedictine  community  domiciled 
in  England,  and  in  1619,  when  he  was  forty- 
four,  he  received  priest's  orders  at  Reims. 
Four  years  later,  about  Christmastide,  an- 
other Benedictine,  Father  Rudeswind  Barlow, 
founded  a  community  of  nuns  at  Cambrai 
for  Enorlish  women.  The  Reformation  had 
made  it  temporarily  difficult  for  communities 
to  exist  in  England. 

It  was  this  convent  which  brought  Father 
Baker   and    Dame   Gertrude    More    together. 


i8o  English  Mystics 

Dame  Gertrude  was  Blessed  Thomas  More's 
great-great-granddaughter,^  her  mother  being 
a  Gage  of  Firle  Place,  in  Sussex.  Helen,  who 
in  religion  took  the  name  Gertrude,  was  born  on 
the  Feast  of  the  Annunciation  in  1606.  Like 
S.  Teresa,  she  lost  her  mother  early,  and  like 
her,  too,  was  the  special  care  of  a  devoted 
father,  who  himself  only  abandoned  his  pre- 
paration for  the  priesthood  at  his  father's 
entreaty,  he  being  the  last  man  of  the  More 
family  at  liberty  to  marry. 

Inspired  by  her  Benedictine  confessor,  Helen, 
with  her  father's  approval,  decided  to  try  her 
vocation.  There  being  no  suitable  convent  in 
England,  Mr.  Crisacre  More  took  her  and 
a  few  other  aspirants  to  the  religious  life  across 
to  Douai,  where  Helen  fell  seriously  ill.  About 
Michaelmas,  she  being  in  her  seventeenth  year, 
a  move  was  made  to  Cambrai,  and,  as  Mr. 
More,  after  settling  the  financial  difficulties, 
was  returning  to  England,  the  Archbishop  of 
Cambrai  placed  the  little  group  under  the 
English  Benedictine  Congregation,  with  Father 

'   Sir  Thomas  More 

John  More 

I 
Thomas  More 

1 
Crisacre  More 

I 
Dame  Gertru'de  More. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Se)>enteenth  Century    1 8 1 

Rudeswind  Barlow  as  their  director.  At  All 
Hallowstide  three  nuns  came  from  Brussels  to 
give  the  new  community  much-needed,  even 
essential  help,  so  that  it  became  possible  for  it 
to  be  founded  formally  on  Christmas  Eve  of 
1623.  On  the  Feast  of  the  Circumcision  the 
archbishop,  assisted  by  Father  Barlow,  clothed 
nine  postulants  ;  the  first  being  Helen  More, 
henceforward  to  be  Icnown  as  Gertrude.  One 
year  later  she  was  professed. 

Father  Baker  tells  the  chequered  story  of  her 
early  spiritual  life  as  truly,  we  may  believe,  as 
it  is  possible  for  one  human  being  to  relate 
another's  inner  experiences.  For  details 
readers  must  go  to  that  record,^ 

There  is  a  noticeable  similarity  both  in 
some  personal  characteristics  and  m  details  of 
environment  between  S.  Teresa  and  Dame 
Gertrude.  In  both  cases  a  somewhat  pro- 
longed period  of  youthful  repulsion  from 
life  in  religion  occurred,  a  repulsion  of 
which  they  were  conscious  and  which  they 
admitted,  however  little  it  was  noticed  by 
those  about  them. 

Both  of  these  great  saints  were  contem- 
platives,  and  perhaps  the  contemplative  life 
is  as  far  removed  from  the  life  of  active 
religious  orders  as  this  is  from  that  kind  of 
well-doing   which    S,    Vincent   de  Paul's  one 

'  The  Inner  Life  of  Dame  Gertrude  More.  By  Father 
Augustine  Baker,     (Published  by  R.  &  T,  Washbourne.) 


1 82  English  Mystics 

woman  friend,  Mademoiselle  le  Gras,  described 
so  wittily  :  "  It  is  of  little  good  for  us  to  hurry 
about  the  streets  with  bowls  of  soup  and  do 
such  service  as  regards  the  body,  if  we  do  not 
look  on  the  Son  of  God  as  the  object  of  our 
effort."  J  The  parallel  must  not  be  regarded 
as  exact  nor  be  pressed  too  far  ;  within  due 
limitations  it  may  be  suggestive.  Anyhow, 
the  supreme  height  of  the  contemplative  life, 
together  with  its  rarity,  is  for  ever  conveyed 
in  our  Lord's  verdict  :  "  Porro  unum  est  neces- 
sarium,  Maria  optimam  partem  elegit  quae  non 
atiferetur  ah   eaT 

As  the  nature  of  contemplative  life  is  per- 
haps less  generally  understood  in  England 
than  once  it  was,  it  may  be  well  to  quote 
Father  Baker's  plain,  precise  description  of  it  : 
"  When  God  calls  a  soul  to  the  religious  life, 
especially  in  a  Contemplative  Order,  His 
intention  is  to  perfect  her  by  the  Divine 
guidance  and  inspirations,  to  which  she  should 
attend  and  be  obedient.  For  this  purpose  the 
religious  life  is  very  suitable  and  even  neces- 
sary. For  external  discipline  was  ordained  by 
S.  Benedict  and  Superiors,  partly  to  enable 
souls  the  better  to  observe  the  interior  Divine 
impulses  which  should  be  the  principle  and 
foundation  of  their  internal  and  external  acts  ; 
partly  that  souls  may  have  the  help  of  Superiors 

'  Quoted  on  p.  77  of  Vincent  de  Paul.  By  Miss  E.  K. 
Sanders. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Se)>enteenth  Century    183 

to  dispose  themselves  by  general  instructions 
how  to  observe  and  distinguish  the  Divine 
impulses  ;  and  finally  that  Superiors  may  decide 
in  cases  of  doubt  the  source  of  the  inspiration, 
and  distinguish  the  inspirations  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  from  natural  and  diabolical  suggestions. 
For  this  end  the  Church  sanctions  religious 
vows,  and  the  soul  in  making  them  should 
have  a  similar  intention.  A  Superior,  there- 
fore, who  should  utterly  neglect  and  despise 
inspirations,  and  regard  them  as  rubbish,  will 
act  contrary  to  the  Divine  Will,  the  intention 
of  Holy  Church,  and  the  religious  state.  His 
principal  care  should  be  rather  to  promote 
and  facilitate  such  inspirations  than  to  hinder 
them."  I 

All  who  care  for  S.  Teresa  are  aware  of  her 
long  drawn  out,  manifold  difficulties  with  con- 
fessors and  directors  who  mistook  the  source 
and  purpose  of  her  "  inspirations,"  as  Father 
Baker  calls  those  direct  communications  which 
are  the  mystic's  source  of  knowledge.  S. 
Teresa  says  :  "In  twenty  years  I  sought  vainly 
for  a  confessor  who  would  understand  me."  2 

Again,  this  time  with  an  explanatory  touch, 
she  says  :  "  I  understand  now  that  it  was  in 
accordance  with  a  special  plan  of  our  Lord  that 
for  eighteen  years  1  found  no  spiritual  master."  3 
With  a  touch  of  her  inimitable,  irrepressible 

'   The  Inner  Life,  p.  50.  ^  Autobiography,  ch.  iv. 

3  ibid. 


184  English  Mystics 

fun,  she  puts  her  finger  on  one  mistake  made 
by  such  non-understanding  directors,  as  she 
protests  gently  against  those  who  make  their 
penitents  "  move  at  the  rate  of  a  tortoise,  and 
are  content  to  teach  them  to  go  hunting 
nothing  but  small  lizards,"  '  or  condemn  them 
always  "to  walk  at  a  hen's  pace."- 

Dame  Gertrude  experienced  similar  diffi- 
culties, and  for  a  long  while.  There  can  be 
no  doubt  that  she  was  a  born  mystic — perhaps 
there  is  no  other  way  of  being  one — but  it  is 
more  remarkable  in  her  case  because  of  the 
curious  contradictions  of  her  natural  tempera- 
ment. In  the  third  chapter  of  The  Inner  Life 
Father  Baker  describes  five  such  : — 

The  most  deep-seated  and  far-reaching  was 
her  natural  "  extroversion."  Father  Baker 
explains  this  to  mean  a  natural  "  turning  out- 
wards "  of  the  intellect  and  spirit.  As  he 
writes  :  "  Extroverted  .  .  .  signifies  that  the 
eye  of  the  soul  is  turned  upon  or  taken  up 
with  outward  things — sensible  objects."  3 

Running  alongside  this  state  of  distributed 
attention  (Father  Baker  describes  her  as  one 
"with  an  active  imagination  and  much  prone 
to  talking  and  recreations  and  to  every  kind 
of  interest  imaginable  "4)  we  find  the  polar 
extreme  of  extroversion  in  that  which  Father 
Baker    calls    her    "  propensity "  :     "  God    had 

'   ibid.,  ch.  xiii.         ^   ibid.         3  p.  i  ^  n.         ■•  p.  ij. 


English  Mystics  oj  the  Se)>enteenth   Century     185 

given  her,  partly  by  nature,  partly  by  grace, 
a  wonderfully  strong  propensity  in  her  rational 
will  to  seek  after  God  and  eternal  felicity,  and 
a  disestcem  or  contempt  for  all  the  transitory 
things  of  this  life.  But  this  propensity,  though 
so  strong  and  efficacious,  is  in  its  own  nature 
a  very  profound  and  spiritual  thing  and  cannot 
be  more  fully  explained."  ^ 

Yet,  a  few  pages  further  on,  he  makes  an 
attempt  at  further  explanation  :  "  The  im- 
pulse of  the  will  to  elevate  itself  to  God — 
a  matter  often  referred  to  by  spiritual  writers 
— is  nothing  else  than  a  natural  propensity. 
And  when  the  person  is  in  a  state  of  grace, 
and  voluntarily  exercises  the  propensity,  the 
Divine  Spirit  doubtless  adds  greater  vigour  to 
the  elevation  of  the  will  towards  God. "2  Again 
he  writes  :  "  Though  the  propensity  to  seek 
God  was  in  part  a  natural  gift  in  Dame  Ger- 
trude, it  does  not  usually  attain  its  full  perfec- 
tion at  once,  but  ripens  with  years.  In  some 
souls  it  ripens  quicker  than  in  others."  3  He 
decides  that  in  her  case  the  maturing  of  this 

propensity  "  was  delayed  by  her  equally 
natural  tendency  to  care  for  outward  things  : 
"  The  propensity  was  overwhelmed  and 
smothered  by  the  warm  affection  she  enter- 
tained for  her  friends  and  kindred."  4  In  the 
closing    words    of    the    following    passage    he 

'   The  Inner  Life,  p.  28.  ^  ibid.,  p.  43. 

3  p.  47.  4    p.  47. 


(C 


1 86  English  Mystics 

further  elucidates  the  working  of  such  a 
"propensity":  "The  ability  to  elevate  the 
will,  as  I  have  already  said,  lies  in  the  pro- 
pensitv  whose  action  is  intensified  bv  grace 
and  inspiration  on  the  part  ot  God,  and  by 
purity  of  intention  on  the  part  of  the  soul."  ^ 

The  other  "natural  contradictions"  of  Dame 
Gertrude's  temperament  which  Father  Baker 
enumerates  are  that  first  she  was  "  very  merry 
yet  very  much  subject  to  sadness,"  after  all 
not  an  uncommon  case  ;  next,  that  she  had 
"  a  timid,  scrupulous  conscience,  yet  had 
much  courage,  boldness,  and  even  hardiness"  ; 
then,  that  she  "  used  to  oscillate  between 
periods  of  great  and  clear  internal  light  and 
periods  of  the  utmost  obscurity." - 

The  fifth  is  hardly  a  contradiction,  but  the 
fact  of  it  may  afford  some  comfort  to  a  few 
not  wilfully  neglectful  people,  viz.  her  inability 
to  "  meditate,"  to  practise  "  discursive  prayer." 

It  seems  so  often  now  to  be  taken  for  granted 
that  every  faithful  soul  should  be  able  to 
"  meditate,"  and  should  do  it,  that  it  really 
is  consoling  to  find  great  saints  who  cannot. 
S.  Teresa  could  not  :  "  God  has  not  given  me 
the  capacity  to  discourse  with  the  understand- 
ing," 3  she  quietly  observes,  and  she  attributed 
this  inability  to  lack  ot  imagination,  using  the 
word  in  its  primary  sense,  as  the  capacity  to 

'  ibid.,  p.  241.     -  pp.  18,  19.     3  Autobiography,  ch..  iv. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Se')>enteenth   Century    187 

form  mental  images  of  absent  objects.  Neither 
could  Dame  Gertrude  meditate — Father  Baker 
definitely  says  so  in  the  third  chapter  of  The 
Inner  Life  :  "  She  was  advised  and  herself 
desired  to  use  meditation  or  discursive  prayer, 
but  she  found  herself  utterly  unable  to  do  it. 
Nor  did  any  kind  of  internal  consideration 
move  her  affections  towards  God  or  help  her 
to  pray.  And  this  inability  (though  in  the 
end  it  proved  to  have  its  advantages)  remained 
with  her  even  till  her  death.  Dame  Gertrude's 
incapacity  to  meditate  did  not  arise  from  any 
want  of  intelligence.  For  merely  human  and 
natural  purposes  she  could  speak  with  force 
and  ability.  And  even  on  spiritual  subjects, 
when  thinking  over  some  point,  or  when 
discussing  it  with  another,  she  showed  herself 
both  capable  and  ready  in  the  use  of  her 
imagination,  tongue,  and  pen.  .  .  .  But  when 
she  attempted  to  turn  her  abilities  to  the 
exercise  of  meditation,  and  to  move  her  will 
by  considerations,  she  was  quite  at  fault,  and 
as  unable  to  do  it  as  if  she  had  no  brains 
at   all." 

No  one  must  conclude  from  this  that  Dame 
Gertrude  lived  without  "  mental  "  prayer,  but 
only  without  that  kind  of  it  which  is  called 
"  discursive,"  the  great  model  of  which  is  the 
"  Ignatian."  On  the  contrary,  she  declares 
with  emphasis  :  "  For  living  in  religion  (as 
I  can  speak  by  experience),  if  one  be  not  in 


1 88  English  Mystics 

a  right  course  of  prayer  and  other  exercises 
between  God  and  our  soul,  one's  nature 
groweth  much  worse  than  ever  it  would 
have  been  if  one  had  lived  in  the  world. 
For  pride  and  self-love,  which  are  rooted 
in  the  soul  by  sin,  find  means  to  strengthen 
themselves  exceedingly  in  religion,  if  the 
soul  be  not  in  a  course  that  may  teach  her 
and  procure  her  true  humility.  For  by  the 
corrections  and  contradictions  of  the  will 
(which  cannot  be  avoided  by  any  living  in  a 
religious  community)  I  find  my  heart  grown, 
as  1  may  say,  as  hard  as  a  stone  ;  and 
nothing  would  have  been  able  to  soften  it 
but  by  being  put  into  a  course  of  prayer, 
by  which  the  soul  tendeth  towards  God,  and 
learneth  of  Him  the  lesson  of  truly  humbling 
herself."  ^ 

Her  difficulty  was  to  discover  the  right 
"course  of  prayer "  for  herself.  It  was  just 
here  that  the  distinctive  element  in  Father 
Augustine  Baker's  spiritual  teaching  came  to 
her  aid,  when  in  1624  he  was  transferred  from 
Douai  to  Cambrai.  Though  the  other  sisters 
at  once  found  much  help  in  his  teaching,  she 
found  none,  and  indeed  she  was  rather  naughty 
about  it  sometimes  ;  and,  at  best,  perceiving 
how  his  counsels  brought  peace  to  some  of  her 
sisters,  she  sighfully  exclaimed,  "  Ah  !  it  is  well 

'  IVritings  of  'Dame  (^ertrude  More,  p.  152.  (Publi»hcd 
by  R.  &  T.  Washbourne.) 


English  Mystics  of  the  Seventeenth  Century    189 

for  you  that  you  can  get  good  from  them,  for 
1  can  get  none." 

This  failure  was  but  one  of  those  innumer- 
able trials  and  pains  which  mark  the  pathway 
of  the  saints  : — 

Many  a  blow  and  biting  sculpture 
Polished  well  those  stones  elect. 

But  the  moment  of  relief  was  at  hand.  On 
a  certain  day  in  1625,  struck  by  a  passage 
which  Father  Baker  read  to  her  i  concerning 
souls  suffering  from  exceptional  aridity,  she 
capitulated  and  resigned  herself  unreservedly 
to  his  direction,  and  from  that  moment  made 
rapid  progress  in  her  spiritual  life. 

It  was  at  the  earnest  request  of  this  com- 
munity that  Father  Baker  began  to  write  down 
his  instructions,  so  that,  indirectly,  to  this 
small  band  of  nuns  the  world  owes  his  great 
mystical  and  ascetical  treatise.  Holy  Wisdom. 

From  the  story  of  the  intercourse  of  these 
great  mystics,  as  the  one  directed  the  other 
along  the  wonderful  Way,  certain  salient 
points  emerge. 

First  in  order  of  importance,  if  we  will  really 
understand  the  process,  is  Father  Baker's  view 
of  the  director's  function  and  office.  A  good 
deal  of  worse  than  barren  controversy  might 
be  saved  for  ever  if  people  who  argue  about 
"  putting  a  man  between  the  soul  and  God  " 

'  From  Barbanson's  De  Semitis  Occultis  'Divini  Jmoris. 


190  English  Mystics 

would  take  the  trouble  to  inform  themselves 
what  genuine  "  direction  "  is.  Since  souls 
differ  widely,  it  must  vary  in  method  ;  but  in 
kind  it  is  one  and  the  same  :  "  The  office  of 
director  is  not  to  teach  a  particular  method 
to  the  disciple,  but  to  give  general  instructions 
by  which  the  soul  may  get  into  her  interior, 
and  when  she  has  once  got  there  to  observe 
the  divine  admonitions  and  guidance,  instead 
of  following  the  methods  of  books  or  opinions 
of  others,  custom,  or  what  at  other  times  had 
proved  profitable."  ^  He  then  qualifies  this 
slightly  :  "These  observations,  however,  apply 
only  to  souls  that  have  a  propensity  to  the 
interior,  perfect  internal  senses,  and  sufficient 
judgement  by  which  they  may  distinguish  the 
divine  impulses,  and  what  is  good  and  what 
better  for  their  souls.  And  many  such  souls 
are  to  be  found — both  men  and  women. 
When  once  they  have  been  equipped  with 
general  instructions,  there  will  be  little  occa- 
sion for  the  director  to  busy  himself  about 
them,  except  in  the  case  of  some  special  need, 
and  at  the  request  of  the  souls  themselves. 
This  will  be  a  great  relief  to  the  director,  and 
is  certainly  best  for  the  souls  themselves,  for 
they  will  then  yield  themselves  to  the  guidance 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  Who  is  the  proper  Master 
of  the  spiritual  life."  2 


*  The  Inner  Life,  p.  73.  ^  ibid.,  p.  74. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Seventeenth  Century    191 

In  his  great  treatise  he  emphasizes  this 
limitation  of  function  :  "  The  necessity  of  an 
external  instructor  is  generally  only  at  the 
beginning  of  a  contemplative  course.  For, 
after  that  souls,  by  the  means  of  general 
directions  given,  and  a  competent  pursuit  of 
internal  exercises,  have  been  once  put  and 
conveniently  settled  in  a  right  way  how  to 
seek  for  more  light  from  God  alone,  they  must 
not  out  of  levity,  curiosity,  or  a  foolish  prone- 
ness  to  discover  their  interior,  nor  without 
a  just  necessity,  continue  to  seek  instructions 
from  without  ;  nothing  will  excuse  it  but  the 
want  of  internal  light  in  some  special  doubtful 
cases,  and  then  also,  they  having  an  internal 
inspiration  and  motion  to  seek  it  from  others  ; 
in  which  case  it  is  indeed  their  divine  internal 
Master  that  they  obey,  who  speaks  unto  them  by 
the  external  director  appointed  them  by  God."  ^ 

The  next  point  of  importance  is  his  discourse 
on  the  several  kinds  of  prayer.  In  The  Inner 
Life  Father  Baker  describes  four  kinds  ;  but 
his  account  in  Holy  Wisdom^  though  the  classi- 
fication is  different,  is  rather  the  more  lucid 
of  the  two. 

After  a  protest  against  the  customary  sepa- 
ration of  vocal  and  mental  prayer,  he  admits 
that  a  legitimate  distinction  between  them  may 

^  Holy  Wisdom,  Treatise  I,  §  ii,  ch.  ii.  The  whole  chapter, 
with  its  references  to  the  teaching  of  Walter  Hilton  and  of 
the  author  of  The  Cloud  of  Unknozving,  should  be  read. 


192  English  Mystics 

be  made  :  "  Prayers  may  be  withal  vocally 
expressed  in  outward  words,  the  soul  attending 
to  the  sense  of  the  words  pronounced,  or  at 
least  intending  to  do  so,  and  this  is  properly 
vocal  prayer."  ^  Next  to  vocal,  he  ranks 
discursive  prayer,  or  "meditation"  :  "in  which 
the  understanding  is  exercised  by  means 
of  the  imagination,  in  order  to  raise  affections 
towards  God."  2 

It  would  be  hard  to  explain  more  clearly 
and  briefly  the  very  essence  of  meditation 
than  he  has  done  here,  yet  one  cannot  help 
thinking  that,  out  of  his  own  experience,  as 
well  as  indirectly  from  spiritual  children. 
Father  Baker  knew  the  difficulty  some  devout 
and  other  persons  find  in  the  practise  of  medi- 
tation, for  once  he  refers  to  it  as  "  in  time  apt 
to  become  dry  and  painful."  3 

The  third  form  of  prayer  he  calls  that  of 
Immediate  e/fcts,  which  he  describes  as  an  exer- 
cise "  performed  chiefly  by  the  superior  will, 
but  not  without  some  use  of  the  imagination 
and  understanding  ;  for  in  making  this  act  the 
understanding  must  use  the  sensible  image  of 
the  thing  in  which  the  act  consists.  Still,  there 
is  no  formal  discourse  or  reasoning  ;  there  is 
merely  the  apprehension  of  the  matter  by  the 

'   ibid.,  Treatise  III,  §  i,  ch.  i. 

^  ibid.     The  next  chapter  further  expounds  the  nature 
of  vocal  prayer. 
3  p.  61. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Seventeenth  Century    193 

understanding,  and  the  main  part  of  the  work 
is  done  by  the  will,  which  produces  an 
efficacious  act  towards  God."  ^ 

The  fourth  is  the  Prayer  of  Sensible  iAffections  : 
"  sensible  because  the  prayer  is  exercised  chiefly 
in  the  emotions  and  senses  ;  affection  as  distin- 
guished from  the  understanding,  working  by 
the  imagination  and  sensible  images."  2 

This  form  of  prayer  Father  Baker  ranks 
highest  of  all  :  "  For,  as  for  discursive  prayer 
or  meditation,  the  world  is  but  even  burdened 
with  books  which  with  more  than  sufficient 
niceness  prescribe  rules  and  methods  for  the 
practice  of  it,  and  with  too  partial  an  affection 
magnify  it,  the  authors  of  such  books  neglect- 
ing in  the  meantime,  or  perhaps  scarce  knowing 
what  true  internal  affective  prayer  is,  which 
notwithstanding  is  the  only  efficacious  instru- 
ment that  immediately  brings  souls  to  contem- 
plation and  perfect  union  in  spirit  with  God."  3 

As  is  well  known,  the  Method  of  Discur- 
sive Prayer  or  Meditation  was  elaborated  and 
worked  out  by  the  founder  of  the  Society  of 
Jesus,  and  fits  in  precisely  with  the  highly 
intellectual  and  practical  aims  of  the  Society. 
But  in  a  world  where  an  unnumbered  company 
of  souls  are  daily  wandering  without  counsel 
or  guidance  there  is  ample  room  for  other 
methods    too  ;    and    the    idealizing,    aspiring 

'  p.  62.  2  p.  65.  3  Treatise  III,  §  i,  ch.  iii. 

o 


194  English  Mystics 

Benedictines,  whose  churches,  in  their  soaring 
delicacy  of  line,  symbolize  the  lifted  spirit 
of  architects  and  builders,  propounded  an 
intenser,  more  energetically  rapid  way  of 
approach.  Reason  is  quick,  but  Love  is 
swifter  far  :  "  the  heart  has  its  reasons  which 
Reason   does  not  know." 

Yet,  with  his  habitual  care  to  forestall  all 
needless  criticism.  Father  Baker  in  a  long  note 
appended  to  chapter  xi  of  The  Inner  Life  is 
careful  to  expound  his  precise  point  still  a 
little  further,  still  a  little  more  exactly  :  "The 
spirit,  in  order  to  work,  must  have  all  sensible 
images,  both  good  and  bad,  removed.  Hence 
the  beginner  in  a  spiritual  course  commences 
with  the  use  of  good  sensible  images,  and  it  is 
impossible  to  begin  in  a  good  spiritual  course 
with  the  exercises  of  the  spirit.  Thus  S.  Paul 
says.  Not  that  "vohich  is  spiritual  comes  first^  but 
that  which  is  sensible  ;  afterwards  that  "which  is 
spiritual.  So  also  S.  Bernard  :  uVIiraculous  is 
the  contemplation  "which  is  not  founded  upon  prece- 
dent meditation.  And  by  meditation  he  means 
any  good  exercise  in  which  sensible  images  are 
used.  Hence  the  four  ways  of  praying  suit- 
able for  beginners  here  given  are  all  founded 
upon  the  principal  use  of  sensible  images. 
Those  souls  who  have  not  a  propensity  to  the 
interior  must  abide  always  in  the  exercises  in 
which  sensible  images  are  used, and  these  souls 
will  find  the  sensible  exercises  very  profitable 


English  Mystics  of  the  Seventeenth  Century    195 

to  themselves  and  to  others  and  pleasing  to 
God.  And  this  is  the  way  of  the  active  life. 
But  others  who  have  the  propensity  to  the 
interior  do  not  always  remain  in  the  exercises 
of  the  senses,  but  after  a  time  these  will  give 
place  to  the  exercises  of  the  spirit,  which  are 
independent  of  the  senses  and  the  imagination 
and  consist  simply  in  the  elevation  of  the  will 
of  the  intellective  soul  to  God.  .  .  .  The  soul 
elevates  her  will  towards  God,  apprehended  by 
the  understanding  as  a  spirit,  and  not  as  an 
imaginary  thing,  the  human  spirit  in  this  way 
aspiring  to  a  union  with  the  Divine  Spirit."  ^ 

The  reader  who  desires  to  grasp  adequately 
Father  Baker's  spiritual  teaching  should  read, 
more  than  once,  the  third  treatise  of  Holy 
Wisdom^  where,  though,  as  I  have  said,  the 
division  is  not  quite  the  same  as  that  in  The 
Inner  Life^  yet  the  whole  subject  of  the  various 
kinds  of  prayer  is  made  as  clear  as  human 
words  allow,  for,  after  all,  S.  Hilary's  plangent 
reflection  still  holds  :  "  We  are  compelled  to 
entrust  the  deep  things  of  God  to  the  perils  of 
human  expression." 

Great  and  insurmountable  as  those  perils 
are,  it  has  seemed  worth  while  to  dwell  at 
length  on  this  vital  question  of  prayer  ;  for 
possibly,  nowadays,  at  least  in  some  quarters  of 
England,  meditation  is  spoken  of  as  if  it  were 

^   The  Inner  Life,  pp.  67-8,  note. 


196  English  Mystics 

the  beginning,  middle,  and  end  of  the  spiritual 
life,  and  is  being  urged  on  all  and  sundry 
with  more  zeal  than  knowledge  and  delicate 
discrimination. 

After  the  director's  function,  and  after  this 
explanation  of  the  several  kinds  of  prayer,  the 
third  point  of  importance  is  surely  the  special 
difficulties  of  the  soul  under  direction.  Father 
Baker  gives  two  accounts  of  Dame  Gertrude's 
natural  temperament,  and  of  the  difficulties 
arising  out  of  it.  The  first  occurs  in  the  fifth 
chapter,  but  that  in  the  thirteenth  is  the  more 
illuminating.  He  writes  there  :  "  From  what 
has  been  said  it  will  be  easily  understood 
how  unfit  for  Dame  Gertrude  were  the  usual 
instructions  found  in  books  for  the  guidance 
of  souls  about  indiffisrent  matters,  yet  the  right 
use  of  them  belongs  to  the  very  essence  of 
the  spiritual  life.  Suppose,  for  instance,  her 
director  had  told  her  to  make  meditation,  or 
use  immediate  acts  or  vocal  prayer  :  none  of 
these  would  have  suited  her.  Or  if  she  had 
been  able  to  use  them  for  a  time,  she  would 
have  to  be  taught  when  she  ought  to  abandon 
them  for  contemplation.  But  no  creature 
could  teach  her  this  in  particular  ;  she  must 
seek  the  guidance  of  the  Holy  Spirit  and 
observe  His  light  and  attractions.  Or  again, 
if  a  director  had  told  her  to  keep  her  mind 
actually  attentive  to  God  while  engaged  in 
external   employments    as   far   as   they   would 


English  Mystics  of  the  Seventeenth  Century    197 

permit,  and  never  to  suffer  any  thoughts  to 
enter  her  mind  or  abide  there  which  had  not 
reference  to  God,  but  always  to  keep  her  mind 
intent  on  Him,  or  on  the  humanity  of  our 
Saviour,  it  would  only  have  hindered  her  pro- 
gress. Then  for  her  exterior,  if  he  had  told 
her  that  she  should  ever  be  in  solitude,  save 
when  obedience  required  otherwise,  that  she 
should  always  observe  silence,  except  when 
spoken  to,  or  when  some  necessary  business 
required  her  to  speak,  and  not  one  word 
further,  that  she  should  always  keep  her  eyes 
modestly  cast  down,  and  observe  nothing  but 
what  obedience  required,  that  she  should 
refrain  from  conversing  at  the  grate  or  in  the 
house  except  at  the  call  of  obedience  .  .  .  that 
from  the  very  beginning  of  her  spiritual  course 
she  should  aspire  to  total  abstraction  and  recol- 
lection of  life  ...  in  a  word,  if  she  had  been 
told  that  she  should  live  the  life  of  an  angel 
on  earth  ...  it  would  certainly  have  been 
destructive  to  both  her  mind  and  body.  Yet 
these  and  similar  instructions  are  to  be  found 
in  books  and  in  the  writings  of  even  the  holiest 
men.  But  in  the  case  of  Dame  Gertrude  how 
inapt  would  have  been  such  instructions  ! 
They  would  in  no  way  have  promoted  her 
spiritual  progress.  Indeed  she  would  and 
could  not  have  put  them  in  practice.  If  she 
had  attempted  it  she  most  certainly  would 
have  gone  out  of  her  wits,  or  utterly  ruined 


198  English  Mystics 

her  health,  and  confounded  and  obscured  her 
soul  by  it." 

The  first  Impression  produced  by  this  pas- 
sage may  possibly  be  that  Father  Baker  had 
allowed  his  natural  gift  of  satire  to  run  away 
with  him.  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  not  satirical, 
but  a  draught  of  that  plain,  sane  sense  which 
the  devout  not  infrequently  need.  Exaggera- 
tion is  at  least  as  possible  in  the  spiritual  life 
as  elsewhere,  and  nowhere  can  it  be  more 
harmful.  Dame  Gertrude,  as  God  had  made 
her,  possessed  alert  senses,  alert  wits.  Father 
Baker,  like  the  humane,  wise,  discriminating 
saint  that  he  was,  eschewed  cutting  blocks  with 
a  razor.  Because  she  was  utterly  unfit  to  do 
certain  things,  that  did  not  mean  she  was  to 
do  nothing  ;  because  certain  methods  would 
have  driven  her  into  an  asylum,  that  did  not 
mean  that  no  self-sacrificing,  self-disciplining, 
strenuous  efforts  were  required  of  her. 

"  C'est  a  voix  basse  que  se  transmet  nor- 
malement  la  tradition  mystique,"  P^re  Bremond 
observes  ;  ^  and  it  was  by  the  long  neglected, 
at  last  accepted,  but  always  sparse  and  economic 
counsels  of  Father  Baker  that  her  harassed  soul 
came  to  find  her  right  Way — not  right  for  all 
and  sundry,  since  no  such  Way  exists — but  for 
her  :  "  In  her  case  the  suitable  method  was  not 
by  any  discourse  of  her  imagination,  nor  by 

'  op,  cit.,  p.  69. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Seventeenth   Century    199 

the  use  of  sensible  devotions,  but  merely  the 
exercise  of  affections,  either  as  her  propensity 
moved  her  to  do  it  by  herself,  or  as  she  chose 
herself  out  of  a  book,  or  by  custom,  or  from 
memory.  .  .  .  And  by  this  means  she  came  to 
have  ordinarily  a  very  efficacious  prayer,  accom- 
panied by  much  recollection  and  internal  sight 
of  herself,  through  which  she  was  enabled  to 
discover  her  inordinate  affections  and  other 
defects,  and  also  to  obtain  through  grace  great 
streno-th  of  will  for  their  amendment.  More- 
over,  this  method  of  prayer  afforded  her  a 
good  interior  light,  and  in  conjunction  with 
the  propensity  of  her  will,  which  was  constant 
and  much  intensified  by  Divine  grace,  fully 
satisfied  all  the  needs  of  her  soul."^ 

The  responsibility  laid  on  any  director  of 
souls  is  overwhelmingly  heavy.  But  in  the 
case  of  those  to  whom  it  falls  to  guide  such 
temperaments  as  Dame  Gertrude's  it  is  excep- 
tionally so,  for  the  quick  energy  which  refuses 
so  uncompromisingly  that  which  is,  or  seems, 
unsuitable,  obeys  as  whole-heartedly  what  it 
accepts  at  all,  and,  whatever  partially  informed 
critics  may  urge,  is  no  respecter  of  persons  : 
"  those  who  truly  endeavour  to  please  Thee 
would  obey  a  worm  if  it  could  command  in 
the  Name  and  power  of  Thee,"  2  she  emphati- 
cally declares. 

'   The  Inner  Life,  pp.  28-9. 

'  /i^nri»^/ of  Dame  Gertrude.     Seventh  Confession,  p.  26. 


200  English  Mystics 

The  fourth  point  to  be  noted  is  this 
"advice"  which  Father  Baker  gave  "a  voix 
basse."  But  he  did  not  stop  short  at  advice 
concerning  prayer  :  "  Prayer  is  not  the  only 
matter  of  importance  in  the  spiritual  life. 
There  is  another  thing  of  almost  equal  con- 
sequence, and  this  is  mortification."  i  His 
instructions  on  Mortification  were  brief:  "  First, 
that  she  should  do  all  that  belonged  to  her 
to  do  by  any  law,  human  or  Divine.  ,  .  . 
Secondly,  that  she  was  to  refrain  from  those 
things  that  were  forbidden  her  by  human 
or  Divine  Law,  or  by  Divine  inspirations. 
Thirdly,  that  she  should  bear  with  as  much 
patience  or  resignation  as  possible  all  crosses 
and  contradictions  to  her  natural  will,  which 
were  inflicted  by  the  hand  of  God.  Such,  for 
instance,  were  aridities,  temptations,  afflictions 
or  bodily  pain,  sickness  and  infirmity  ;  or  again, 
loss  of  honour  or  esteem,  unkindness,  neglect  ; 
or  again,  the  loss  of  friends  or  want  of  neces- 
saries and  comforts.  All  this  was  to  be  endured 
patiently,  whether  the  crosses  came  direct  from 
God  or  by  means  of  His  creatures."  2 

He  adds,  with  a  touch  of  that  terse  wit  which 
often  glances  across  his  most  serious  pages  : 
"  These  indeed  were  mortifications  enough  for 
Dame  Gertrude  or  for  any  other  soul,  and 
there  was   no  need  for  any  one  to  advise  or 

'   The  Inner  Life,  p.  75.  ^  ibid.,  p.  76. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Seventeenth  Century    201 

impose  others."  ^  But  just  as  he  perceived 
that  in  the  matter  of  prayer  some  are  not 
only  helped  by  "  sensible  images,"  but 
actually  need  them,  so  he  perceived  that 
there  may  be  persons  so  far  removed  from 
ordinary  sources  of  mortification  that  they 
need  to  hunt  about  for  the  "  imposed  "  sort 
or  to  have  such  definitely  provided  them, 
who  require  that  additional  fastings,  greater 
almsgivings,  scourges  and  other  devices  be 
appointed  or  made  for  them  :  while  he 
exempted  Dame  Gertrude,  knowing  well  enough 
that  her  quick  temperament  would  suffer 
abundantly  beneath  her  whole-hearted  endur- 
ance of  those  diurnal  crosses  which  came 
"  directly  from  God  or  by  means  of  His 
creatures."  Similarly,  in  a  later  chapter,  he 
writes  :  "A  person  of  more  robust  constitution 
could  have  borne  more  violent  mortifications, 
but  Dame  Gertrude  must  be  taken  as  God 
made  her."  2  In  the  twenty-second  chapter  of 
The  Inner  Life  Father  Baker  tells  us  that  "  the 
excessive  natural  activity  of  Dame  Gertrude's 
senses  was  in  the  latter  part  of  her  life  much 
abated."  Then  "  introversion "  had  become 
easier  and  much  more  frequent,  and  this  of 
course  was  the  effect  of  Divine  grace  and  her 
own  prayer  and  self-mortification.  As  Father 
Baker   penetratingly  remarks,  "  In   the  affairs 

'  p.  77.  ^  p.  94- 


202  English  Mystics 

of  this  world  natural  abilities  serve  to  bring 
things  to  their  intended  issue.  But  in  super- 
natural matters,  as  the  spiritual  good  of  the 
soul,  natural  abilities  are  utterly  insufficient  .  .  . 
natural  ability  must  wholly  accommodate  itself 
to  Divine  impulses,  behaving  as  an  instrument 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  not  as  an  independent 
worker."  ^ 

It  is  just  over  this  total  self-surrender  that 
so  many  stumble.  If  Dame  Gertrude  was  not 
called  upon  to  suffer  the  same  degree  of  pro- 
longed and  exquisite  physical  pain  as  S.  Teresa, 
for  example,  yet  she  was  burdened  with  many 
bodily  disabilities  :  with  both  spiritual  and 
mental  pain  she  was  very  familiar. 

In  health  and  prosperity  it  is  easy  to  enlarge 
on  the  disciplinary  value  and  even  on  the 
absolute  necessity  of  pain  ;  indeed,  without  it 
a  saint  could  hardly  be  fashioned,  and  the  men 
of  sorrows  are  the  men  of  efficacy  in  all  the 
affairs  of  life  and  death. 

But  the  reminder  may  not  be  useless,  lest 
the  unwary  be  misled,  that  when  the  saints 
"  rejoice  in  pain  "  they  are  not,  at  least  some 
are  not,  relieved  from  it.  It  still  is  pain. 
Such  a  prayer  as  that  attributed  to  S.  Ignatius 
may  be  said  often,  with  wholly  sincere  intent — 
^^Suscipe  Domine  universam  meam  Uhertatem .  Accipe 
mernoriam^   intellectum    atque   voluntatem    omnem. 

'   ibid.,  p.  202. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Seventeenth   Century    203 

Quidquid  habeOj  velpossideo^  mihi  largitus  eSj  id  tibi 
totum  restituo  ac  tuce  prorsus  voluntati  trado  guber- 
nandum.  Amor  em  tui  solum  cum  gratia  tua  mihi 
dones^  et  dives  sum  satis,  nee  aliud  quidquam  ultra 
poscoy  But,  in  agonizing  illness  with  its  con- 
sequent restraint  and  disablement,  in  over- 
whelming sorrow  or  torturing  anxiety,  the 
faltering  will  and  hesitating  tongue  sufficiently 
prove  what  it  costs  really  to  mean  it. 

At  the  same  time  we  must  not  forget  that 
such  great  simple  souls  exist  as  those  whom 
F^nelon  described  :  "  Elles  ne  pensent  point  a 
bien  souffrir  ;  mais  insensiblement  chaque  croix 
se  trouve  port^e  jusqu'au  bout  dans  une  paix 
simple  et  amere,  ou  elles  n'ont  voulu  que  ce 
que  Dieu  vouloit.  II  n'y  a  rien  d'eclatant,  rien 
de  fort,  de  distinct  aux  yeux  d'autrui,  et  encore 
moins  aux  yeux  de  la  personne.  Si  vous  lui 
disiez  qu'elle  a  bien  souffert  elle  ne  le  com- 
prendroit  pas."  Sometimes  to  physical  suffer- 
ing is  added  that  last  misery,  aridity,  utter 
dereliction.  Then  we  may  well  remember 
S.  Teresa's  letter  to  Father  Gracian  :  "  Do  not 
suppose  that  one  who  suffers  does  not  pray  ; 
he  prays  since  he  offers  his  sufferings  to  God, 
and  often  far  better  than  one  who  is  racking 
his  brains  in  solitude,  and  who  fancies  if  he 
manages  to  wring  out  a  few  tears  that  this  is 
prayer."  ^ 

^  The  Letters  of  S.  Teresa.  Translated  by  the  Benedic- 
tines of  Stanbrook.     Vol.  ii,  p.  97. 


204  English  Mystics 

As  Dame  Gertrude  persevered  in  the  manner 
of  prayer  recommended  by  Father  Baker,  many 
"  affective  acts,"  chosen  by  her  from  "  my 
beloved  S.  Augustine  "  and  other  books,  were 
written  down  and  scattered  about  the  house. 
These,  eventually,  were  collected  and  published 
by  Father  Baker.  The  original  title  was  Holy 
Practices  of  a  Divine  Lover,  but  Father  Baker 
christened  them  The  Idiot's  '^  Devotions.  A  great 
collection  of  such  Immediate  Acts  or  Affections 
may  be  found  at  the  end  of  Father  Baker's  own 
treatise,  Holy  Wisdom. 

Some  one  may  ask.  What  has  all  this  to  do 
with  mysticism  ?  Just  this.  The  mystic's  aim 
is  direct  union  with  God.  Thus  Dame  Ger- 
trude cries  :  "When  shall  I  without  all  mean 2 
be  united  to  Thee  ,'' "  3  And  so  in  this  par- 
ticular case  the  answer  is  that,  obeying  her 
own  "  propensity,"  helped  by  Father  Baker's 
counsel,  she  practised  the  way  of  affective 
prayer  and  mortification — "  the  way  of  the 
spirit  is  a  secret,  mystic  way,  and  is  not  to  be 
discovered  save  by  a  Divine  internal  light, 
obtained  by  means  of  prayer,  and  pursued  with 
a  corresponding   degree   of   mortification  "4 — 

'  Using  the  word  idiot  in  its  original  Greek  sense  of 
layman,  amateur,  private  person. 

2  i.e.  directly,  immediately,  without  intervention  of  sense 
or  imagination. 

3  Writings  of  Dame  Gertrude  More,  p.  55. 

4  The  Inner  Life,  p.  78. 


English  Mystics  of  the  Seventeenth   Century    205 

until  "  by  means  of  prayer  Dame  Gertrude 
received  a  great  measure  of  light."  '  So  at 
last  she  writes  herself,  thus  showing  the  rela- 
tion between  external  direction,  inner  effort, 
and  illumination  :  "  All  the  spiritual  men  in 
the  world  are  not  able  by  their  instructions  to 
make  another,  that  yet  of  herself  may  be  most 
apt  for  it,  become  truly  spiritual,  unless  the 
scholar  herself  do  withal  carefully  observe  and 
pursue  the  foresaid  lights  and  calls  as  her 
primum  mobile^  or  first  mover.   .   .   . 

"  For  God,  and  none  but  He,  is  the  true 
and  immediate  teacher  and  director  in  the  most 
obscure  and  supernatural  way  of  contemplation. 
.  .  .  Simple  and  unlearned  souls,  by  the  said 
light,  come  to  find  out  those  internal  ways, 
most  obscure  of  themselves,  which  no  man, 
though  never  so  learned  and  acutely  witted, 
can  discern  or  find  out  of  himself."  2  There 
speaks  the  true  mystic  ;  there  is  "  the  flight  of 
the  alone  to  the  Alone,"  there  is  the  true 
illumination  which  Thomas  a  Kempis  craved 
for  :  "  Loquere^  T)omine,  quia  audit  servus  tuus. 
Non  loquatur  mihi  Moyses  aut  aliquis  ex  prophetis  : 
sed  tu^  potius  loquere^  Domine  Ueus^  inspirator  et 
illuminator  omnium  prophetarum  ;  quia  tu  solus 
sine  iis  potes  me  perfects  imhuere  :  illi  autem  sine 
Te  nihil  proficient r  3 

S.  Teresa  warns  us  again  and  again  that  no 

'  ibid.,  p.  81.  ^  Writings,  pp.  233-4. 

3  De  Imit.  Christi,  iii.  ii.  i. 


20 6  English  Mystics 

one  can  produce  or  retain  by  sheer  act  of  will 
illumination  or  union.  The  supernal  vision 
comes  and  lasts  as  God  wills,  and  is  given  to 
whom  God  wills.  Similarly  here,  Dame  Ger- 
trude tells  us  that  human  wit  will  never  discern 
nor  find  it. 

If  any  one  will  read  the  last  sublime  chapter 
of  Holy  Wisdom^  the  one  entitled  Of  the  State 
of  Perfection^  he  will  not  only  realize  the  truth 
of  this,  but  he  may  find  himself  comparing 
the  intense  vision  of  this  too-much-forgotten 
English  Benedictine  with  Dante's  great  revela- 
tion in  the  Paradiso. 

Those  who  wish  to  penetrate  the  inmost 
secret  of  these  two  great  mystics  must  go  to 
their  own  writings,  and  live  close  to  them  ; 
but  to  forestall  needless  criticism,  it  may  be 
well  to  add  here  a  few  words  on  the  subject  of 
individualism  and  influence.  A  casual  reader 
of  Father  Baker's  writings  might  possibly  bring 
against  him  the  charge  which  was  actually  made 
during  his  lifetime,  viz.  that  he  sometimes  set 
aside  "accepted"  views,  and  even  seemed  to 
think  lightly  of  the  methods  of  superiors. 
With  this  Dame  Gertrude  dealt,  at  some 
length,  in  her  nApoIogy^  observing  that  the  same 
charge  was  levelled  at  him  as  at  our  Lord;^ 
and  her  simple  answer  is  :  "  He  has  taught  me 
true   submission   and  subjection  of  myself  to 

'  S.  Luke  XX.  23. 


English  Mystics   of  the  Se'))enteenth  Century    207 

God,  and  to  whomsoever  He  puts  over  me  in 
this  life,  with  as  great  a  contempt  of  myself  as 
my  frailty  can  reach  unto."  ^ 

To  those  who  imagine  that  direction  is  or 
may  be  "unwholesome,"  perhaps  Dame  Ger- 
trude's plain  statement  may  bring  some  help 
and  enlightenment  :  "  This,  therefore,  was  that 
which  made  me  so  esteem  Father  Baker's 
instructions  at  first  when  he  delivered  them, 
because  I  saw  that  they  were  grounded  upon 
God  (not  upon  him)  Who  could  never  fail, 
whatsoever  became  of  him."  2 

^  apology  (Writings,  p.  210).  ^  ibid.,  p.  225. 


CHAPTER   V 
Anglo-Catholic  Mystics  and  Others 

AS  we  turn  to  the  group  of  Anglo- 
Catholics,  Thomas  Browne,  John 
^  Donne,  Vaughan,  and  do  not  wholly 
forget  that  unusual  occupant  of  the  seat  of 
the  Chief  Justice  of  the  King's  Bench,  Henry 
Montagu,  ist  Earl  of  Manchester,  we  cannot 
but  perceive  in  greater  or  less  degree  some 
of  the  losses  immediately  consequent  on  the 
Reformation — the  loss  of  serene  security,  of 
accepted  certainty.  Of  course  people  may 
say  that  these  can  be  bought  at  too  high  a 
price,  but  that  contention  involves  the  admis- 
sion that  they  have  a  price. 

An  obvious  result  of  controversy  is  almost 
invariably,  and  that  on  both  sides,  the  exaggera- 
tion of  differences.  In  their  reforming  zeal 
some  of  the  authorities  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land seem  to  have  wished  to  destroy  not  only 
the  priestly  authority  (which,  all  the  while, 
they  explicitly  retained  in  the  Ordinals),  but 
also  priestly  counsel  and  guidance  ;  while  the 
practice  of  ascetic  discipline,  for  a  while,  seems 
hardly  to  have  survived  save  here  and  there  in 
remote  places. 

208 


Anglo-Catholic  Mystics  209 

\i  we  consider  the  visible  efficacy,  to  say 
nothing  of  all  which  was  bound  to  remain 
unseen,  of  the  spiritual  teaching  of  so  highly 
trained  a  director  as  Father  Baker,  then  we 
may  begin  to  realize  what  was  lost  by  Anglo- 
Catholics  when  deliberate  provision  for  training 
priests  in  the  intimate  guidance  of  souls  was 
neglected.  Of  course  this,  like  every  great 
service  which  one  mortal  renders  to  another, 
is  partly  a  matter  of  gifts  ;  but  also,  in  no  small 
measure,  its  success  depends  on  the  due  training 
of  such  gifts. 

What  might  not  have  been  further  developed 
of  high  and  peculiar  sanctity,  say  in  Sir  Thomas 
Browne,  had  he  come  face  to  face  with  such 
teaching  as  Father  Baker's  or  that  of  such  con- 
temporaries in  France  as  Peres  Lallemant  and 
Jean  Rigoleuc,  as  these  two  counselled  men  on 
"  guardianship  of  the  heart  "  .''  Suppose  to  his 
natural  sagacity,  to  his  anima  naturaliter  Christiana 
he  h;id  added  a  training  enabling  him,  not  like 
Montaigne,  "  to  draw  himself  at  full  length 
and  naked,"  but  to  perceive  fully  "un  nouveau 
monde  .  .  .  un  grand  theatre  ou  trois  sortes 
d'esprits,  celui  de  Dieu,  celui  de  la  chair  et  le 
malin  esprit  paraissent  sans  cessc,  ou  tous 
ensemble  ou  separement,  comme  un  champ  de 
bataille,  ou  ces  trois  esprits  combattent  sans 
treve  pour  la  conqtiete  de  notre  ^me."  ^      Sup- 

'  Henri  Bremond,  Histoire  Litteraire  du  Sentiment  Re ligieux 
en  France,  vol.  v,  cc.  i  and  1 1 . 

P 


2IO  English  Mystics 

pose  he  had  been  adjured  "to  stand  sentinel" 
over  his  inner  life  "  and  let  God  act."  ^ 

The  tragic  reign  of  Charles  I  witnessed  the 
publication  of  three  of  the  most  beautiful  and 
individual  prose  Essays  in  Theology  written  in 
English  :  Contemplation  of  Death  and  Immortality 
(commonly  known  as  Manchester  al  OAondo')^  by 
Henry  Montagu,  ist  Earl  of  Manchester,  and 
the  Religio  dVLedici  of  Thomas  Browne,  which 
was  followed  in  1650  by  his  Hydriotaphia  or 
Urn-'Burial. 

Litera  scripta  manet  is  a  warning  sometimes 
given  by  lawyers  to  over-impulsive  clients  ; 
but  this  Chief  Justice  of  the  King's  Bench  has 
left  us  matter  written  which  in  its  unworldly 
incaution  will,  one  fancies,  not  only  "  remain  " 
as  long  as  English  and  Latin  are  intelligible  to 
human  beings,  but  will  blossom  in  perpetuity, 
through  its  fragrant  influence  on  not  a  few 
lives  who  come  to  enjoy  the  immortality  of 
which  it  speaks. 

Having  reflected  that  "  the  Fathers  "  taught 
men  to  regard  with  careful  consideration  "The 
Four  Last  Things,  Heaven  and  Hell,  Death 
and  Judgement,"  and  that  some  souls,  loving 
Contemplation  as  well  as  he  did,  have  "  fixed 
upon  the  Love  of  God  ;  some  upon  the  Passion 
of  Christ,  some  upon  the  joyes  of  heaven  ; 
some    upon    contempt    of  the    world,   several 

'  ibid. 


Anglo-Catholic  Mystics  211 

others  upon  divers  other  subjects,"  '  he  him- 
self will  make  his  special  choice,  since  time 
seems  to  press  :  "  Considering  I  had  passed 
so  much  imployment,  so  many  offices,  so  long 
practice  in  several  professions  ...  I  now 
thought  it  time  to  seize  on  death  before  it 
seized  on  mee."^ 

And  so  his  main  treatise  is  on  death,  which 
"  is  but  a  dormitory  for  a  day."  3 

Manchester  is  a  striking  exception  to  that 
kind  of  dubiety  which  permeates  so  much  of 
the  English  seventeenth  century.  Wherever, 
from  whomever  he  derived  his  instruction,  he 
knew  the  mystics'  standpoint,  and  he  sepa- 
rated, in  their  accustomed  fashion,  the  functions 
of  the  intellect  and  the  heart  :  "We  meditate 
to  know  God,  we  contemplate  to  love  God.  .  .  . 
Meditation  considers  her  objects  peece  by 
peece,  but  Contemplation  summes  them  alto- 
gether. .  .  .  Meditation  is  with  a  man  as  he 
that  smells  a  Violet,  the  Rose,  the  Jessamine, 
and  the  Orange  flowers  individually  .  .  .  but 
Contemplation  is  a  water  compounded  of  them 
all."  4 

Perhaps  every  reader  of  this  little  book 
would  be  struck  first  by  the  author's  vividness 
of  imagination  :  consideration  after  considera- 
tion is  introduced  with  a  lively  image  :  "Every 

'  ^Manchester  al  CVLondo,  p.  4.  (Published  by  Oxford 
University  Press,  1902.) 

^  ibid.,  p.  5.  3  p.  15,  4  pp.  5_6. 


212  English  Mystics 

one  is  here  set  Centinel,  and  not  to  leave  the 
place  till  his  Captaine  call  him  off"  ;  ^  a  cheerier 
view  than  Plato's  :  "  There  is  a  doctrine  whis- 
pered in  secret  that  man  is  a  prisoner  who  has 
no  right  to  open  the  door  of  his  prison  and 
run  away."  2  A  solemn  point  Manchester 
drives  in  with  a  homely  picture,  familiar  still 
to  Sussex  Down-folk  :  "  If  the  Oxe  loweth 
when  his  fellow  is  taken  from  him  that  drew 
the  plough  with  him,  qualem  mugitum  shall  we 
give  when  soule  and  body  part."  3  And  once 
again,  "  Begin  not  thou  to  turne  to  God  when 
thou  canst  not  turne  thee  in  thy  bed."  4 

No  one,  I  think,  could  call  OAanchester  al 
tMondo  a  mystical  treatise,  though  he  possesses 
so  plainly  that  distinctive  gift  of  the  mystics  of 
never  mistaking  the  shell  for  the  kernel.  In 
essence  the  book  is  a  long-drawn-out  series  of 
reflections  and  counsels  on  such  a  manner  of  life 
as  will  not  allow  a  man  to  be  taken  unawares 
by  death — a  morte  improvisa  et  subitanea^  Domine 
libera  nos  being  its  unwritten  motto  ;  never- 
theless the  fundamental  texture  of  the  author's 
spirit  is  mystical  :  "  Qui  praedixit^  Reviscit^ 
and  this  hath  wrought  it.  Humane  wisdome 
cannot  comprehend  this.  Weake  faith  lookes 
for  meanes,  and  is  put  to  shifts  when  she  sees 
them  faile  ;  and  yet  Reason  ministers  helpe 
to    Faith,  though   it  be   no   ground  of  Faith. 

'  ibid.,  p.  29.  2  Phaedo,  §  62. 

3  Manchester  al  Mondo,  p.  48.  4  ibid.,  p.  73. 


Anglo-Catholk  Mystics  213 

Nam  fides  non  tollit^  sed  potius  extoUit  rationem. 
Reason,  the  chiefest  pecce  of  man,  would  but 
cannot  reach  so  high.  Grace  that  hath  taken 
up  her  seat  in  the  Soule,  makes  Reason  see 
what  Nature  cannot,  and  yet  man,  doe  what  he 
can,  is  still  apt  to  seeke  a  reason  why  he  should 
believe.  But  Omnipotencie,  which  works  by 
improbabilities,  tels  us  there  is  no  strong  faith 
where  there  is  apparant  meanes.  Difficulties 
and  improbabilities  are  the  proper  objects  of 
faith.  Crede^  quod  non  vides^  et  videbis  quod  non 
credis  .  .  .  faith  is  not  faith  if  reason  comprehend 
it  ;  Faith  and  Reason  have  their  limits  ;  where 
Reason  ends  Faith  begins. "^ 

But  in  the  fourth  and  concluding  division  of 
the  little  book,  heading  the  short  chapter  with 
this  title  in  capitals — The  Rapture  of  the  Sovle — 
he  gives  full  rein  to  his  mysticism.  It  is  but 
four  pages  all  told  ;  yet  the  following  passages 
prove  that  Henry  Montagu  was  as  genuine  a 
mystic  as  Dame  Gertrude  herself:  "  Rapitur 
Anima  cum  coelestia  contemplatur^  et  contemplando 
jucundatur.  This  is  a  kind  of  Arreption  to 
Heaven  ;  when  a  man  abstracts  himself  from 
earth,  and  by  contemplation  grows  into 
acquaintance  with  God,  for  then  he  seemes 
to  converse  with  God,  and  become  divinae 
particeps  naturae^  then  he  sends  forth  strong 
emanations  of  Divine   love.     Those  affectiones 

^56. 


2  14  English  Mystics 

extaticae  are  the  signals,  Atnoris  Uquidi ;  liquescit 
animo^  cum  devoiione  calescit.  Such  love  suffers 
not  me  to  be  a  lover  of  myself.  .  .  .  Let  him 
kisse  mee  with  the  kisses  of  His  mouth,  so 
begins  that  Canticum  Canticorum.  .  .  .  This 
fruitivus  Amor^  by  Divine  rapture,  unites  me 
to  God.  .  .  . 

"And  because  sight  increases  delight,  There- 
fore Rapture  would  faine  ascend  to  Vision, 
Videre  illa^  non  quae  '^identur^  sed  quae  non 
videntur.  .  .  .  The  Soule  being  thus  power- 
fully attracted  by  the  inducements  of  so  faire 
and  divine  delights,  Shee  on  her  part  corre- 
sponds, and  with  a  willing  assent  glides  after 
these  attracts,  and  as  a  vapour  exhaled  by  the 
Sunne,  she  goes  out  of  her  selfe,  and  would 
willingly  draw  the  body  with  her,  but  that 
substance  is  too  sad  ;  wherefore  she  quits  it 
as  not  agill,  nor  sprightful  enough  to  soare 
so  high.  .  .  .  The  will  takes  pleasure  to  per- 
ceive the  understanding  (which  is  the  Soules 
King)  taken  into  Rapture  ;  and  when  the 
faculties  both  of  will  and  understanding  doe 
intercommunicate  their  ravishments,  then  are 
we  sweetly  brought  into  divine  extasie,  in 
which  state  man  feels  nothing  of  the  Humane, 
but  dyes  in  his  life,  and  lives  in  his  death. 
Of  this  second  extasie  the  Seraphicall  Divines 
make  three  sorts  ;  one  of  understanding,  a 
second  of  affection,  a  third  of  action.  Action 
is  added,   because  a  man  is   not   to  be  above 


Anglo-Catholic  Mystics  215 

himself  in  Contemplation,  and  under  himselfe 
in  conversation.  The  first  of  the  three  is  in 
splendore  ;  the  second  in  fer))ore  ;  the  third  in 
lahore ;  the  one  caused  by  admiration  ;  the 
other  by  devotion,  the  last  by  operation."  ^ 

Probably  the  bulk  of  Manchester's  com- 
patriots now  are  as  unfamiliar  with  his  name 
as  with  his  book  ;  they  may  be  more  familiar 
with  Sir  Thomas  Browne's  name  if  his  work 
be  little  known,  for  this  Norwich  physician 
combined  with  his  own  marked  individuality 
some  of  the  stately  philosophy  of  Bacon  and 
the  friendly  na'if  confidentialness  of  Michel 
de  Montaigne. 

From  his  least  unknown  book,  the  Religio 
Medici^  which  he  described  as  "rather  a  me- 
morial unto  me  than  an  Example  or  Rule  unto 
any  other,"  2  and  as  "a  sense  of  my  conceptions 
at  that  time, 3  not  an  immutable  Law  unto 
my  advancing  Judgement  at  all  times,"  4  we 
may  gather  his  own  religious  standpoint,  and 
at  the  same  time  realize  the  growth  of  private 
judgement  in  authority's  proper  sphere,  and 
the  fluidity  of  opinion  and  belief  which  followed 
the  religious  upheaval  in  England.  With  Sir 
Thomas  Browne  we  begin  to  hear  plainly, 
in  spite  of  his  delightful  charm,  and  genuine 

'  ibid.,  pp.  1 16-18. 

=^  Religto  U^edici,  edited  by  W.  A.  Greenhill,  p.  4. 
(Macmillan,  1885.) 

3  area  1635,  4  op.  cit.,  p.  5. 


2i6  English  Mystics 

pietas^  the  note  of  "  our  unhappy  divisions." 
Most  urbane  of  controversialists,  he  announces 
without  hesitation,  "  I  dare  without  usurpation 
assume  the  honourable  stile  of  a  Christian." 
Then  at  once  follows  the  admission  of  the 
grievous  rent  in  the  Church,  yet  he  has  no 
intention  of  renouncing  his  allegiance  to  the 
Catholic  Faith  :  "  To  be  particular,  I  am  of 
that  Reformed,  new-cast  Religion,  wherein 
I  dislike  nothing  but  the  Name  ;  of  the  same 
belief  our  Saviour  taught,  the  Apostles  dis- 
seminated, the  Fathers  authorized,  and  the 
Martyrs  confirmed  :  but  by  the  sinister  ends 
of  Princes,  the  ambition  and  avarice  of  Pre- 
lates, and  the  fatal  corruption  of  times,  so 
decayed,  impaired,  and  fallen  from  its  native 
Beauty  that  it  required  the  careful  and  charit- 
able hands  of  these  times  to  restore  it  to  its 
primitive   Integrity."  ^ 

Though,  with  that  perception  which  can 
come  long  after  the  event,  some  of  us  may 
see  that  the  "  restoration  "  was  less  satisfactory 
than  he  thought,  and  the  hands  less  careful 
and  charitable  sometimes  than  he  believed, 
no  competent  reader  can  mistake  his  earnest 
conviction  that  he  belonged  to  the  one  Church 
founded  by  our  Lord,  built  up  and  consoli- 
dated by  Apostles,  Doctors,  and  Martyrs,  nor 
his  deliberate  desire  so  to  belong.     His  love 

'   %elig'io  Medici,  p.  8. 


Anglo-Catholic  Mystics  217 

for  his  "  absent  brethren,"  from  whom  he  had 
been  unhappily  divided,  is  no  less  apparent : 
"  We  have  reformed  from  them  not  against 
them  .  .  .  there  is  between  us  one  common 
Name  and  Appellation,  one  Faith  and  neces- 
sary body  of  Principles  common  to  us  both  ; 
and  therefore  1  am  not  scrupulous  to  converse 
and  live  with  them,  to  enter  their  Churches  in 
defect  of  ours,  and  either  pray  with  them  or 
for  them."  i  Wherefrom  it  is  evident  that 
Anglo-Catholicism  is  not,  as  some  seem  to 
suppose,  a  thing  of  recent  invention. 

Among  English  writers.  Sir  Thomas  Browne 
has  that  sauntering,  half-irrelevant,  almost  dis- 
connected method  of  thought  and  expression 
which  made  Montaigne  so  effectual  and  per- 
suasive. This  quality  makes  it  useless  to  attempt 
to  find  in  his  writings  a  symmetrical  or  even 
ordered  system  of  mystical  doctrine  ;  and 
probably  his  practice  was  not  more  systematic. 
For  all  that  he  was  of  the  mystical  temper- 
ament ;  and  his  tendency  escapes,  consciously 
or  unconsciously  it  is  hard  to  tell  which,  as 
his  pen  follows  his  leisurely,  straying  thought, 
and  shows  itself  in  his  intuitive  perceptions, 
his  capacity  to  penetrate  the  outer  appearance 
and  arrive  at  reality.  Sometimes,  indeed,  his 
attention  is  so  concentrated  upon  the  matter 
in  hand  that  all  recollection  of  possible  readers, 

'   ibid.,  p.  9. 


2i8  English  Mystics 

an  audience  of  any  kind,  seems  to  vanish,  and 
he  is  like  one  thinking  aloud.  Again,  he  has 
the  mystics'  tendency  to  rate  the  unseen  above 
the  seen.  Many  will  give  a  conventional 
assent  to  the  superiority  of  the  spiritual  to 
the  material,  and  straightway  belie  it  by  their 
habits  and  actions.  But  Sir  Thomas  Browne 
is  not  of  their  company.  Writing  of  one  who 
has  reached  old  age,  he  says  :  "  Having 
been  long  tossed  in  the  Ocean  of  this  World, 
he  will  by  that  time  feel  the  In-draught  of 
another,  unto  which  this  seems  but  preparatory, 
and  without  it  of  no  high  value.  He  will 
experimentally  find  the  Emptiness  of  all  things, 
and  the  nothing  of  what  is  past  ;  and  wisely 
grounding  upon  true  Christian  expectations, 
finding  so  much  past,  will  wholly  fix  upon 
what  is  to  come.  He  will  long  for  Perpetuity, 
and  live  as  though  he  made  haste  to  be  happy. 
The  last  may  prove  the  prime  part  of  his  Life, 
and  those  his  best  days  which  he  lived  nearest 
Heaven."  i  The  above  passage,  as  well  as  the 
next  one  quoted  here,  shows  that  he  possesses 
that  other  mystical  gift  of  grasping  the  unity 
of  existence,  of  realizing  the  connection  of  all 
things  with  their  Creator  :  "  Forget  not  the 
capital  2  end,  and  frustrate  not  the  opportunity 
of  once  Living.  .  .  .  Upon  a  curricle  in  this 
World    depends  a   long   course    of  the    next, 

'  Christian  Morals,  Pt.  iii. 

'  chief,  which  like  the  head  (caput)  crowns  all. 


Anglo-Catholic  Mystics  219 

and  upon  a  narrow  Scene  here  an  endless 
Expansion  hereafter.  In  vain  some  think  to 
have  an  end  of  their  Beings  with  their  Lives. 
Things  cannot  get  out  of  their  natures,  or  be 
or  not  be  in  despite  of  their  constitutions. 
Rational  existences  in  Heaven  perish  not  at 
all,  and  but  partially  on  Earth  :  that  which  is 
thus  once  will  in  some  measure  be  always  ; 
the  first  living  human  Soul  is  still  alive.  .  .  . 
Though  it  looks  but  like  an  imaginary  kind  of 
Existency  to  be  before  we  are  ;  yet  since  we 
are  under  the  decree  or  prescience  of  a  sure 
and  Omnipotent  Power,  it  may  be  somewhat 
more  than  a  non-entity  to  be  in  that  Mind 
unto  which  all  things  arc  present."  ' 

Whether  or  not  he  wrote  the  following 
passage  meaning  it  to  be  taken  mystically,  it 
can  easily  be  so  read  :  "  Tread  softly  and 
circumspectly  in  this  funambulous  2  Track  and 
narrow  Path  of  Goodness  ;  pursue  Virtue 
virtuously.  .   .   . 

"  Consider  whereabout  thou  art  in  Cebes 
his  Table^  or  that  old  philosophical  Pinax  of 
the  Life  of  Man  ;  whether  thou  art  still  in  the 
Road  of  Uncertainties  ;  whether  thou  hast  yet 
entered  the  narrow  Gate,  got  up  the  Hill  and 
asperous  Way,  which  leadeth  unto  the  House 
of  Sanity,  or  taken  that  purifying  Potion  from 
the    hand    of  a  sincere  Erudition  which  may 

'   Chris tiaji  Morals,  pp.  224-7. 
^   Like  a  dancer's  tight-rope. 


220  English  Mystics 

send  thee  clear  and  pure  away  unto  a  virtuous 
and  happy  Life."  ^ 

Though  it  is  almost  certain  that  Sir  Thomas 
Browne  borrowed  some  of  these  most  notice- 
able phrases  (e.g.  asperous  Way,  purifying 
Potion,  from  Cebes'  2  PinaXj  which  in  the 
seventeenth  century  was  used  as  a  text-book 
in  schools),  they  are  still  patient,  and  in  his  use 
of  them  suggestive,  of  a  mystical  meaning  : 
they  may  signify  Purgation  along  a  steep  and 
stony  path,  Illumination  from  pure  Knowledge, 
and  Union  at  last.  That  his  intention  here 
was  mystical  is  made  more  probable  by  the 
closing  words  of  Christian  Morals  and  by  the 
last  paragraph  but  one  of  Urn-'Burial.  The  two 
passages  closely  resemble  but  also  complete 
one  another.  The  first  from  Christian  Morals 
runs  thus  :  "  If  (as  we  have  elsewhere  declared) 
any  have  been  so  happy  as  personally  to  under- 
stand Christian  Annihilation,  Extasy,  Exolu- 
tion.  Transformation,  the  Kiss  of  the  Spouse, 
and  Ingression  into  the  Divine  Shadow,  accord- 
ing to  Mystical  Theology,  they  have  already 
had  an  handsome  Anticipation  of  Heaven  ;  the 
World  is  in  a  manner  over,  and  the  Earth  in 
Ashes  with  them." 

The  passage  from  "elsewhere,"  that  is  from 
Urn-^urialj  seems  to  refer  definitely  to  past 
mystics  ;  it  also  adds  a  notable  mystical  phrase, 

'  Letter  to  a  Friend,  op.  cit.,  p.  147. 
^  A  disciple  of  Socrates. 


Anglo-Catholk  Mystics  11\ 

while  omitting  the  definite  reference  in  Christian 
Morals  to  Mystical  Theology  :  "Pious  spirits 
who  passed  their  days  in  raptures  of  futurity, 
made  little  more  of  this  world  than  the  world 
that  was  before  it,  while  they  lay  obscure  in 
the  chaos  of  pre-ordination,  and  night  of  their 
fore-beings.  And  if  any  have  been  so  happy 
as  truly  to  understand  Christian  annihilation, 
ecstacies,  exolution,  liquefaction,  transforma- 
tion, the  kiss  of  the  spouse,  gustation  of  God, 
and  ingression  into  the  divine  shadow,  they 
have  already  had  an  handsome  anticipation  of 
Heaven  ;  the  glory  of  the  world  is  surely  over, 
and  the  earth  in  ashes  unto  them," 

Finally,  in  estimating  his  claim  to  the 
mystical  temper,  we  must  not  forget  a  sentence 
in  Urn-Burial :  "  Life  is  a  pure  flame,  and  we 
live  by  an  invisible  Sun  within  us." 

Speaking  from  a  philosophical  rather  than 
from  a  theological  point  of  view,  the  essence 
of  mysticism  can  be  analysed  into  a  capacity  to 
pierce  through  appearance  to  the  underlying 
reality  ;  a  tendency  to  synthesis,  to  perception 
that  all  things  are  finally  related  to  each  other 
in  a  greater  whole  ;  a  subordination — no  more 
than  that,  emphatically  not  an  abolition — of 
the  intellectual  side  of  human  nature  to  the 
volitional  and  emotional,  and  finally  an  appre- 
hension which  is  direct,  not  mediated  nor 
mediable  through  any  intervening  channel. 

Expressed  in  such  terms  mysticism  becomes 


222  English  Mystics 

at  least  intelligible  in  its  nature  to  men  of 
any  religion  or  none  ;  much,  little,  or  not 
at  all  as  any  one  of  them  may  be  a  mystic 
himself. 

When  the  condition  is  thus  reduced  to  its 
elements,  a  man  like  Sir  Thomas  Browne  falls 
naturally  into  the  category  of  the  mystics. 
But  Vaughan  enters  by  a  higher  claim.  Though 
perhaps  we  cannot  picture  him  begging  that 
strange  assortment  of  garments,  and  making 
out  of  them  a  curious  "habit,"  we  can,  if  we 
have  any  sympathy  at  all,  perceive  that  no 
unbridgeable  chasm  separated  him  from  so 
typical  an  English  Mystic  as  "  Richard 
Hermit." 

Both  alike  saw  through  the  veil  to  the 
Presence,  both,  with  their  sincere  simplicity, 
stretched  out  their  confident  hands  till  at  last 
they  grasped  Reality. 

Sometimes  Vaughan  is  regarded  as  if  he 
were  exclusively  a  religious  poet  ;  but  this 
kind  of  penetration  can  be  discerned  even  in 
his  secular  poems,  as,  e.g.,  in  his  address  to 
Seneca,  as  he  lingered  in  the  Bodleian  Library 
and  saw  his  Letters  there  : — 

But  what   care  I  to  whom  thy  Letters   be  ? 
I  change  the   name  and   thou   dost  write  to  me  ; 
And   in    this  Age   as  sad    almost   as  thine, 
Thy  stately   consolations   are   mine. 

That  is  not  mysticism,  but  the  temper  of  mind 


Anglo-Catholic  Mystics  223 

which  could  realize  such  a  fact  has  in  it  that 
ability  to  grip  the  core,  without  which  no  one 
can  be  a  mystic. 

There  are  facts  which  give  Vaughan  a  right 
to  rank  highly  among  the  mystics,  to  have 
a  place  among  the  greatest  of  them.  When 
we  consider  his  age,  his  circumstances,  his 
natural  liveliness  of  temper,  we  cannot  but 
admit  that,  humanly  speaking,  he  had  prac- 
tically nothing  to  help  him  and  everything  to 
hinder.  If  ever  any  one  were  directly  taught 
of  God,  surely  he  was.  He  had  no  human 
director  ;  the  Church  which  he  loved  had 
fallen  on  some  of  the  worst  days  of  persecu- 
tion. It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  he  hated 
Puritanism,  yet  he  was  forced  to  see  the  parish 
churches  near  him  deprived  of  their  priests, 
and,  if  open  at  all,  given  over  to  self-consecrated 
and  often  illiterate  preachers.  There  seemed 
no  mediating  channel  left  for  him,  no  refuge 
till  he  fell  into  "the  everlasting  Arms." 

By  the  days  of  Vaughan's  youth  the  Church 
of  England  had  steadied  after  the  great  dis- 
ruption, and  the  time  of  recovery  had  definitely 
begun.  Until  the  Civil  War  broke  up  the 
peace  again  he  was  familiar  with  the  authorita- 
tive doctrine  and  discipline,  the  decent  and 
stately  ritual  which  obtained  under  Laud  ; 
the  catholic,  fragrant  devotion  of  Lancelot 
Andrewes  was  enriching  the  Church.  In  spite 
of  the  disastrous  consequences  of  controversy 


224  English  Mystics 

and  of  all  the  losses  and  misery  of  divisions, 
Catholics  could  point  to  the  work  of  restoration 
already  effected.  Men  cannot,  in  England  any 
more  than  elsewhere,  gather  figs  from  thistles  ; 
the  Preces  Prilpatae  of  Lancelot  Andrewes  never 
sprang,  never  could  spring,  from  a  Puritan 
root. 

In  the  miserable  rupture  between  Rome  and 
Canterbury  something  bigger  is  needed  than 
a  rigorous  logic,  at  least  something  as  large  as 
a  theory  which  will  cover  all  the  facts  on  both 
sides. 

It  is  very  easy  to  call  the  Church  of  England 
schismatic  or  heretical,  or  both  ;  it  is  very  easy 
to  deny  her  claim  to  Catholicism  ;  but  such 
abrupt  performances  do  not  cover  all  the  facts. 
No  one  knows  her  failures  and  gaps  better 
than  those  who,  loving  her  still,  suffer  from 
them  ;  but  two  facts  remain — she  has  always 
in  every  age  bred  up  some  Catholics,  and  men 
do  not  gather  figs  from  thistles.  After  all, 
she  is  not  alone  in  her  imperfections.  Were 
there,  in  Christendom,  a  body  against  which 
no  grave  fault  or  failure  could  be  urged,  those 
of  the  Ecclesia  Anglicana  might  seem  not  only 
more  glaring,  but  more  decisive  than  they  do. 
As  things  are,  it  is  evident  that  in  every 
generation,  however  rough  their  way,  how- 
ever vulnerable  their  position  to  ridicule  and 
scorn,  however  chastened  their  opportunities, 
men  and  women  have  lived  and  died  in  the 


Anglo-Catholk  Mystics  225 

Church  of  England  —  like  Herbert  and 
Andrewes,  Bramhall  and  Vaughan,  the  Non- 
jurors, the  Community  of  Little  Gidding,  the 
Tractarians  with  all  those  whose  names,  many 
as  they  are,  are  unknown,  men  and  women 
whose  view  resembled  that  of  Dean  Church 
when  he  wrote  :  "  The  English  Church,  after 
all,  was  as  well  worth  living  in  and  fighting  for 
as  any  other.  It  was  not  only  in  England  that 
light  and  dark  in  teaching  and  in  life  was 
largely  intermingled,  and  the  mixture  had 
largely  to  be  allowed  for.  We  had  our 
Sparta,  a  noble,  if  a  rough  and  incomplete 
one  ;  patiently  to  do  our  best  for  it  was  better 
than  leaving  it  to  its  fate,  in  obedience  to  signs 
and  reasonings  which  the  heat  of  strife  might 
well  make  delusive."  ^  The  Roman  Catholic 
admission  that  our  Lord  "  has  many  sheep 
outside  His  fold  whom  personally  He  cares 
for,  yet  He  acknowledges  but  one  fold,  and 
would  that  all  were  within  it.  He  may  give 
guidance  to  individuals  without,  but  to  her 
alone  He  gives  corporate  guidance,"  2  must  not 
be  forgotten,  since  it  gives  an  answer  to  the 
argument  based  on  the  image  of  figs  from 
thistles.  But  it  does  not  at  all  adequately 
deal  with  the  Anglo-Catholics'  original  claim, 
at   the  very  moment   of  the   break,  to   retain 

^  R.  W.  Church,  The  Oxford  Movement,  pp.  346-7. 
»  Father  Leslie  J.  Walker,  S.J.,  The  Problem  of  Reunion, 
p.  215. 

Q 


226  English  Mystics 

their  catholicity ;  nor  their  constant  struggle 
throughout  the  centuries  against  encroaching 
Protestantism  ;  nor  the  nineteenth  century's 
signal  Catholic  Revival.  The  fact  is  clear  that 
neither  the  Eastern  Orthodox  nor  the  Anglican 
Communions  repudiated  their  Catholic  Past  ; 
they  definitely  clung  to  it.  The  Protestant 
bodies  repudiated  theirs.  Had  this  one  fact 
been  generally  admitted  all  along,  perhaps  the 
worst  spiritual  effects  of  controversy  might 
have  been  avoided  ;  perhaps  before  now  Unity 
might  have  been  restored.  To  face  facts,  all 
the  facts,  on  all  the  sides,  and  to  face  them 
squarely,  is  perhaps  more  lilcely  to  bring 
about  the  realization  of  our  Lord's  high- 
priestly  prayer  than  political  deals  and  theo- 
logical compromises,  and  there  is  a  Parable 
about  wheat  and  tares. 

However  that  may  be,  it  ever  an  Anglo- 
Catholic  mystic  existed  after  the  Reformation, 
Henry  Vaughan  was  one  ;  and,  as  I  have  said, 
he  was  so  in  the  most  apparently  unpromising 
circumstances. 

In  the  first  place  he  did  not,  could  not  take 
things  easily,  or  "  suffer  fools  gladly."  By 
nature  he  was  that  uncomfortable  mixture, 
a  partisan  without  any  taste  for  fighting.  A 
dense  world  sees  too  little  and  that  too  dimly, 
to  perceive  that  a  person  may  be  "  ever  a  fighter  " 
without  having  the  slightest  taste  for  strife  ; 
and    the    seventeenth    century    had    little    of 


Anglo-CathoUc  Mystics  227 

our  present-day  complacence  which  too  often 
thinks  that  only  self-interest  is  a  sufficient 
ground  for  resisting  injustice  and  wrong. 
Like  Erasmus,  Vaughan  needed  an  occasional 
retreat  from  the  "  strife  of  tongues  "  ;  only 
from  men  of  their  temper  could  come  that 
wearied  apostrophe — 

Lord,  what  a  busie,  restlesse  thing 
Hast  Thou  made  man  ! 

Like  Erasmus,  he  found  his  lot  cast  in  days 
of  tumult  and  riot.  Like  Erasmus,  he  loved 
good  company,  that  is  the  friends  of  his 
choice,  and  was  less  fortunate,  being  deprived 
of  so  many  by  war  and  persecution.  His 
poetry  is  full  of  the  praise  of  solitary  peace, 
yet  little  was  vouchsafed  him.  Sometimes  he 
found  respite,  and  of  Sundays  he  could  say  : — 

Bright  shadows  of  true  Rest  !  some  shootes  of  blisse  ; 

Heaven  once  a  week, 
The  next  world's  gladness  prepossest  in  this 

A  day  to  seek 
Eternity  in  time. 

Into  the  poem  called  Retirement  he  put  his 
longing  for  the  country's  peace  and  purity  : — 

But  rural   shades  are  the  sweet  sense 

Of  piety  and  innocence  ; 
They  are  the  meek's  calm  region,  where 
Angels  descend  and  rule  the  sphere  ; 
Where  Heaven  lies  leaguer,  and  the  Dove 
Duly  as  dew  comes  from  above. 
If  Eden   be  on  earth  at  all, 
'Tis  that  which  we  the  country  call. 


22  8  English  Mystics 

This  desire  for  peace  may  account  too  for 
his  love  for  night's  silence,  a  singular  trait  in 
the  seventeenth  century  which  was  a  little 
prone  to  connect  darkness  with  death  : — 

Dear  night  !  this  world's  defeat  ; 

The  stop  to  busie  fools  ;  care's  check  and  curb  ; 

The  day  of  spirits  ;  my  soul's  calm  retreat 

Which  none  disturb  ! 
Christ's  progress  and  His  prayer-time 
The  hours  to  which  high  Heaven  doth  chime. 

God's  silent,  searching  flight  ; 

When  my  Lord's  head  is  filled  with  dew,  and  all 

His  locks  are  wet  with  the  clear  drops  of  night  ; 

His  still,  soft  call  ; 
His  knocking  time  ;  the  soul's  dumb  watch, 
When  spirits  their  fair  kinred  catch. 

But  beyond  these,  beautiful  as  the  last 
is,  the  poem  called  Teace  brings  to  us  the 
intensity  of  his  feeling  : — 

My  soul  there  is  a  countrie 
Afar  beyond  the  stars. 
Where  stands  a  winged  Sentrie 
All  skilfull  in  the  wars. 
There  above  noise  and  danger. 
Sweet  peace  sits  crowned  with  smiles, 
And  One  born  in  a  manger 
Commands  the  beauteous  files- 
He  is  thy  gracious  friend 
And  (O  my  »oul  awake  !  ) 
Did  in  pure  love  descend 
To  die  here  for  thy  sake. 
If  thou  canst  get  but  thither 
There  growes  the  flowre  of  peace, 


Anglo-Catholic  Mystics  229 

The  rose  that  cannot  wither, 
Thy  fortresse  and  thy  ease. 
Leave  then  thy  foolish  ranges, 
For  none  can  thee  secure. 
But  One  Who  never  changes, 
Thy  God,  thy  Life,  thy  Cure. 

This  is  not  the  Paradise  of  the  idler  and 
the  unaware,  but  the  withdrawing  of  the  soul 
to  its  Source,  the  "  flight  of  the  alone  to  the 
Alone." 

After  all,  from  what  a  torturing,  disordered 
world — as  such  a  man  as  he  was  would  find 
it — did  Vaughan  withdraw. 

Come  then  ! 

he  cries  to  his  "  Retired  Friend  " — 

and,  while  the  slow  icicle  hangs 
At  the  stiff  thatch,  and  Winter's  frosty  pangs 
Benumb  the  year,  blithe — as  of  old — let  us 
Midst  noise  and  war  of  peace  and  mirth  discuss. 
This  portion  thou  wert  born  for  ;  why  should  we 
Vex  at  the  time's  ridiculous  misery  ? 
An  age  that  thus  hath  fooled  itself,  and  will 
Spite  of  thy  teeth  and  mine — persist  so  still. 

Bravely  outfaced,  no  doubt  ;  but  the  sting 
of  it  all  is  clearly  perceptible.  The  mental 
and  moral  state  of  the  majority,  as  Vaughan 
saw  them  there  and  then,  is  vividly  described 
by  the  method  of  contrast,  when  he  writes  his 
eulogy  on  his  own  friend  who  was  "  slain  in 


230  English  Mystics 

the  late  unhappy  differences  at  Rowton  Heath, 
near  Chester,  1645  "  : — 

He  weaved  not  self-ends  and  the  public  good 
Into  one  piece,  nor  with  the  people's  blood 
Filled  his  own  veins,  in  all  the  doubtful  way 
Conscience  and  honour  ruled  him. 

But  the  acuteness  of  his  misery  under  the 
Puritan  regime  is  to  be  found,  not  in  his 
poems,  either  secular  or  religious,  but  in  the 
prayers  at  the  close  of  his  Mount  of  Olives  J  : 
"  Consider,  O  Lord,  the  tears  of  Thy  spouse 
which  are  daily  upon  her  cheeks,  whose  adver- 
saries are  grown  mighty,  and  her  enemies 
prosper.  The  ways  of  Sion  do  mourn,  our 
beautiful  gates  are  shut  up  ;  and  the  Comforter 
that  should  relieve  our  souls  is  gone  from  us. 
Thy  service  and  Thy  Sabbaths,  Thy  own  sacred 
Institutions  and  the  pledges  of  Thy  Love,  are 
denied  unto  us.  Thy  ministers  are  trodden 
down,  and  the  basest  of  Thy  people  are  set  up 
in  Thy  holy  place.  .  .  .  Behold,  the  robbers  are 
come  into  Thy  sanctuary,  and  the  persecutors 
are  within  Thy  walls.  We  drink  our  own 
water  for  money,  and  our  wood  is  sold  unto 
us.  2  Our  necks  are  under  persecution  ;  we 
labour  and  have  no  rest.  Yea,  Thine  own 
inheritance  is  given    to    strangers    and    Thine 

'  The  Mount  of  Olives,   etc.     Edited  by  L.  I.   Guiney. 
(Published  by  Oxford  University  Press.) 
"  Lamentations  v.  4. 


Anglo-Catholic  Mystics  231 

own  portion  unto  aliens."  ^  In  the  next 
prayer,  "  in  adversities  and  troubles  occa- 
sioned by  our  enemies,"  he  cries  with  a  more 
poignantly  personal  note  :  "  Thou  seest,  O 
God,  how  furious  and  implacable  are  mine 
enemies  :  they  have  not  only  robbed  me  of 
that  portion  and  provision  which  Thou  hast 
graciously  given  me,  but  they  have  also 
washed  their  hands  in  the  blood  of  my 
friends,  my  dearest  and  nearest  relatives.  2 
I  know,  O  my  God,  and  1  am  daily  taught  by 
that  Disciple  whom  Thou  didst  love,  that  no 
murderer  hath  eternal  life  abiding  in  him. 
Keep  me  therefore,  O  my  God,  from  the 
sight  of  blood,  and  suffer  me  not  to  stain 
my  soul  with  the  thought  of  recompense  and 
vengeance,  which  is  a  branch    of  Thy   great 

'  The  Mount  of  Olives,  p.  39. 

^  What  this  loss  of  friends  and  relations  meant  to  Vaughan 
we  can  see  in  his  moving  poem  : — 

They  are  all  gone  into  the  world  of  light  ! 
And  I  alone  sit  ling'ring  here. 

And  in  another,  with  its  note  of  even  more  intimate 
sorrow  : — 

Thou  that  knowst  for  whom  I  mourn 
And  why  these  tears  appear 

O  let  me,  like  him,   know  my  End 

And  be  as  glad  to  find  it  ; 
And  whatsoe'er  Thou  shalt  commend 

Still  let  Thy  servant  mind  it. 


232  English  Mystics 

prerogative,  and  belongs  wholly  unto  Thee. 
Though  they  persecute  me  unto  death,  and 
pant  after  the  very  dust  upon  the  heads  of 
Thy  poor,  though  they  have  taken  the  bread 
out  of  the  children's  mouth,  and  have  made 
me  a  desolation — yet,  Lord,  give  me  Thy  grace 
and  such  a  measure  of  charity  as  may  fully 
forgive  them.  Suffer  me  not  to  open  my 
mouth  in  curses,  but  give  me  the  spirit  of  my 
Saviour,  Who  reviled  not  again,  but  was  dumb 
like  a  lamb  before  His  shearers.  O  Lord  ! 
sanctify  all  these  afflictions  unto  Thy  servant, 
and  let  no  man  take  away  my  crown."  ^ 

Bereaved  of  those  whom  he  loved  best, 
stripped  of  his  means,  Vaughan  suffered  further 
from  religious  deprivations  ;  and,  worst  trial  of 
all,  to  any  who  are  trying,  however  imperfectly 
they  may  succeed,  to  live  as  Christians,  from 
temptation  to  return  evil  for  evil  to  those 
whom  he  sincerely  believed  to  be  not  only 
his  personal  enemies,  but  profaners  of  the 
holiest  mysteries  and  robbers  of  God.  It  is 
a  hard  trial  for  any,  but  incalculably  more 
acute  to  those  who  have  the  mystic's  sensitive 
apprehension  as  Vaughan  had. 

With  everything,  humanly  speaking,  against 
him,  he  deliberately  withdrew  from  his  un- 
toward environment.  More  than  that,  he 
managed  to  reap  from  his  sufferings  material 

'  The  [Mount  of  Olives,  pp.  40- 1 . 


Anglo- Catholic  Mystics  233 

for  his  inner  perfection,  as  he  trod  the 
mystic's  solitary  way  :  "  We  could  not  have 
lived  in  an  age  of  more  instruction,  had  we 
been  left  to  our  own  choice.  We  have  seen 
such  vicissitudes  and  examples  of  human 
frailty  as  the  former  world,  had  they  happened 
in  those  ages,  would  have  judged  prodigies. 
We  have  seen  Princes  brought  to  their  graves 
by  a  new  way,  and  the  highest  order  of  human 
honours  trampled  upon  by  the  lowest.  We 
have  seen  judgement  beginning  at  God's 
Church,  and  (what  hath  been  never  heard  of 
since  it  was  redeemed  and  established  by  His 
blessed  Son)  we  have  seen  His  ministers  cast 
out  of  the  sanctuary,  and  barbarous  persons, 
without  light  or  perfection,  usurping  holy 
offices."  ^ 

Withdrawn  from  a  world  he  could  no  longer 
share  in  wholeheartedly,  nor  by  any  effort 
whatsoever  mend,  Vaughan  set  about  mending 
himself;  first,  as  his  prayer,  already  quoted, 
shows,  from  all  bitterness  and  uncharity,  since, 
like  every  mystic,  he  knew  that  love  is  the 
only  possible  atmosphere  for  the  true  servant 
of  God,  and  next  from  his  personal  and 
natural  imperfections.  There  is  no  evidence 
to  show  that  his  youth  was  in  any  notable  way 
blameworthy ;  but,  being  a  mystic,  he  had 
caught  a  fleeting  vision  of  Absolute  Goodness, 


'  Man  in  'Darkness,  op.  cit.,  p.  47. 


234  English  Mystics 

wherefore  he  abhorred  himself,  and  set  forth 
on  the  "  asperous  way  "  of  Purgation. 

If  any  reader  knows  very  little  of  Vaughan, 
that  little  will  probably  include  the  often- 
quoted  Retreate^  which  is  among  his  most 
definite,  if  not  the  most  definite,  references  to 
his  effort  after  cleansing  : — 

Happy  those  early  dayes,  when  I 
Shined  in  my  Angell-infancy  ! 

When  yet  I  had  not  walk't  above 
A  mile  or  two  from  my  first  Love, 

Before  I  taught  my  tongue  to  wound 
My  conscience  with  a  sinfuU  sound, 
Or  had  the  black  art  to  dispence 
A  sev'rall  sinne  to  ev'ry  sense. 

O,  how  I  long  to  travell  back, 
And  tread  again  that  ancient  track  ! 
That  I  might  once  more  reach  that  plaine 
Where  first  I  left  my  glorious  traine  ; 
From  whence  th'  inlightened  spirit  sees 
That  shady  City  of  Palme  trees. 

It  is  the   old  familiar   doctrine   of  Purgation 
before  Illumination. 

In  his  "  Meditation  at  the  setting  of  the 
Sun,  or  the  Soul's  elevation  to  the  True 
Light,"  Vaughan  preaches  the  same  doctrine  : 
"  But  the  wicked  neither  know  nor  under- 
stand ;  they  walk  in  darkness,  and  from  the 
inward  darkness  of  their  minds  pass  at  last  into 
the    outward    eternal    darkness.   .   .  .  But    on 


Anglo-Catholk  Mystics  235 

those  that  walk  with  Thee  an  everlasting  day- 
shines.  .  .  .  O  Light  of  Light,  the  brightness 
of  Thy  Father's  glory,  enlighten  all  inward 
obscurities  in  me,  that  after  this  life  I  may 
never  be  cast  into  the  outer  darkness."  ^ 

With  a  surer  mystical  touch  he  writes  : 
"  Enlighten  my  soul,  sanctify  my  body,  govern 
my  affections  and  guide  my  thoughts,  that  in 
the  fastest  closure  of  my  eyelids  my  spirit  may 
see  Thee.  .  .  .  Suffer  me  not,  O  my  God,  to 
forget  Thee  in  the  dark."  2 

In  his  poems  his  aspiration  rises  to  greater 
heights,  as  he  longs  for  the  Illumination 
which  is  still  withheld  : — 

I  cannot  reach  it ;  and  my  striving  eye 
Dazzles  at  it,  as  at  Eternity. 

How  do  I  study  now,  and  scan 
Thee  more  than  ere  I  studyed  man, 
And  only  see  through  a  long  night 
Thy  edges  and  Thy  bordering  light  ! 
O  for  Thy  center  and  mid-day  ! 
For  sure  that  is  the  narrow  way  ! 

Finally  he  reminds  us  of  S.  John  of  the 
Cross,  when  he  exclaims  : — 

There  is  in  God  some  say, 
A  deep  but  dazzling  darkness  ;  as  men  here — 

Say  it  is  late  and  dusky,  because  they 

See  not   all  clear, 
O  for   that   night  !    when   I   in   Him 
Might  live  invisible   and   dim  ! 

'   Mount  of  Olives,-^.  15.  ^  ibid,,  p.  17. 


236  English  Mystics 

There  are  passages  in  The  Mount  of  Olives 
which  might  have  come  from  Rolle's  pen  ; 
e.g.  "  When  thou  art  to  go  from  home, 
remember  that  thou  art  to  come  forth  into  the 
world,  and  to  converse  with  an  enemy  ;  and 
what  else  is  the  world  but  a  wildernesse,  a 
darksome,  intricate  wood,  full  of  ambushes 
and  dangers  ;  a  forest  where  spiritual  hunters, 
principalities  and  poweres  spread  their  nets 
and  compass  it  about  }  "  And  again  :  "  If 
thou  wilt  have  prayers  to  ascend  up  before 
God,  thou  must  withdraw  from  all  outward 
occupations  to  prepare  for  the  inward  and 
divine."  That  has  the  very  note  of  Rolle's 
injunctions  to   Margaret. 

Like  all  the  mystics,  Vaughan  knew  that 
God  is  Light  and  Heat  ;  like  the  author  of 
The  Cloud  of  Unknowing  he  is  aware  of  some- 
thing intervening  between  the  soul  and  God  ; 
with  S.  Teresa  he  understands  that  no  human 
effort  can  avail  to  bring  or  retain  the  vision  of 
God  ;  and  he  sums  it  all  up  in  the  poem 
to  which  he  gave  the  curious  title  C^c^- 
crowing : — 

O  Thou    immortall   light  and  heat  ! 

Whose  hand  so   shines  through   all   this   frame, 

That   by   the   beauty  of  the  seat, 

We  plainly  see   who   made  the  same. 

Seeing   thy   seed   abides   in   me, 

Dwell  Thou   in   it  and  I   in   Thee  ! 


AngLo-Catholic  Mystics  237 

Only   this   veyle   which    Thou  hast  broke, 

And    must   be  broken  yet   in  me, 

This   veyle,   I    say,   is  all   the  cloke. 

And  cloud  which  shadows   Thee  from   me. 

This  veyle  Thy   fuU-ey'd  love   denies. 

And  onely  gleams  and  fractions  spies. 

O  take   it  off!    make   no   delay  ; 

And    brush  me  with   Thy  light,   that  I 

May   shine  unto   a   perfect   day. 

And   warme  me   at  Thy   glorious   Eye  ! 

O   take   it   off !    or  till  it  flee. 

Though    with    no  lilie,  stay   with    me  ! 

What  we  miss  in  Vaughan  is  not  the  hard- 
ness of  the  Way,  for  his  path  was  persistently- 
difficult  and  steep,  nor  the  reality  of  Illumina- 
tion, but  that  rapturous  sense  of  achievement 
which  crowns  the  work  of  Rolle  and  makes  the 
Angels'  Song  bright  with  an  unearthly  joy.  It 
is  uphill  all  the  way  with  Vaughan.  His  loyal 
heart  and  indestructible  faith  hold  him  up  ; 
but  always  close  at  hand  and  overshadowing 
memory  of  past  transient  joys  are  his  sense  of 
personal  unworthiness,  his  realization  of  the 
wretchedly  perilous  condition  of  the  world. 
Like  Bacon,  he  might  have  said  incessantly, 
"  tMultum   incola  fuit  anima  mea.''' 

Yet  that  very  fact  surely  adds  to  his  singular 
merit.  A  dispossessed  man  spiritually  and  in 
a  worldly  sense,  without  the  Sacraments  at 
times,  unaided  by  counsel  and  direction,  he 
was  led  into  the  inner  court  by  direct  divine 
help  ;  however  thick  the  "  veyle  "  might  seem 


238  English  Mystics 

to  him,  the  "  spark  at  the  apex  of  the  soul " 
burned  on,  burned  upward,  flaming  towards 
the  great  Fire  of  Love. 

The  eighteenth  century  and  part  of  the 
nineteenth  were  dominated  by  such  a  strong 
current  of  prosaic  materialism  that  the  recol- 
lection of  the  fragrance  of  the  seventeenth 
has  faded  from  too  many  minds.  The  dire 
losses  which  followed  on  the  great  rent  of  the 
sixteenth  century  are  still  only  too  obvious 
and  disastrous,  but  the  seventeenth  century 
knew  the  secret  of  their  repair.  Torn  with 
that  most  bitter  of  all  contention,  strife  between 
brothers,  it  still  produced  a  literature  so  full  of 
beautiful  wisdom,  of  strong,  sweet  devotion, 
that  no  other  century  can  quite  match  it.  The 
English  Church  may  fearlessly  ask  for  some 
explanation  of  Henry  Vaughan,  Lancelot 
Andrewes,  and  many  others  whose  names 
may  be  known  or  unknown,  if  she  really 
did  lose  her  Catholicity  at  the  Reformation. 
Vaughan  is  less  ordered,  less  systematic ; 
but  he  is  as  truly  mystical  as  any  of  our 
fourteenth-century  mystics.- 

In  the  enthusiasm  naturally  aroused  by  the 
discovery,  some  years  ago,  of  Traherne's  works 
a  tendency  arose  to  rate  him  above  Vaughan. 
All  such  comparisons  are  futile  and  fruitless, 
because  the  two  men  were  so  utterly  different  in 
temperament,  Vaughan  being  a  devout  soul,  but 
irreparably  saddened  by  the  dark  times,  while 


Anglo- Catholic  Mystics  239 

Traherne  bubbled  over  with  joy  in  the  sur- 
rounding glory  of  the  material  universe.  One 
comparison  may  perhaps  be  justly  made,  viz. 
between  these  two  and  Richard  Crashaw,  who 
has  been  so  widely  and  unhesitatingly  hailed 
as  a  mystic,  that  it  is  legitimate  to  seek  for 
the  grounds.  Certainly  his  claims  do  not  lie 
so  near  the  surface  as  those  of  Vaughan  and 
Traherne. 

Probably  most  people  rest  his  claim  upon 
his  two  poems  on  S.  Teresa,  of  which  the  less 
often-quoted  Hymn  contains  more  mysticism 
than  the  better-known  Flaming  Heart.  But 
even  here  the  impression  given  is  much  more 
that  of  a  poet  writing  about  a  mystic  than  of 
a  mystic  pouring  out  his  own  actual  experience. 

For  example,  he  describes  S.  Teresa's 
youthful  attempt  at  martyrdom  quite  from 
a  spectator's  standpoint  : — 

Sweet,  not  so  fast  !  lo,  Thy  fair  Spouse 
Whom   thou    seek'st   with   so  swift  vows  ; 
Calls   thee   back   and   bids   thee  come 
T'  embrace  a  milder  martyrdom. 

Thou   art  Love's  Victim  ;  and  must  die 

A  death   more   mystical   and  high  : 

Into  Love's  arms  thou  shalt  let  fall 

A  still  surviving  funeral. 

His  is  the  dart  must  make  the   death 

Whose  stroke   shall  taste   thy  hallowed   breath ; 

A   dart  thrice  dipp'd   in  that  rich   flame 

Which  writes  thy   Spouse's  radiant   name 

Upon  the   roof  of  Heaven, 


240  English  Mystics 

Beautiful  as  these  lines  are,  among  the  most 
perfect  that  he  ever  wrote,  they  could  quite 
well  be  no  more  than  the  apostrophe  of  a  man, 
acquainted  with  mystical  literature,  contem- 
plating the  life  of  a  great  mystic.  With  more 
semblance  of  personal  experience  he  writes  in 
his  rendering  of  S.  Thomas'  Hymn  in  adoration 
of  the  Blessed  Sacrament — 

Down,   down,  proud  Sense  !  discourses  die  ! 
Keep   close   my  soul's  inquiring  eye  ! 

But  that  is  at  least  as  much  due  to  S.  Thomas 
Aquinas  as  to  Crashaw. 

Two  poems,  one  accompanying  the  gift  of  a 
Prayer  Book  to  a  young  gentlewoman,  and 
the  other  containing  counsel  for  her,  show 
him  to  have  had  real  direct  knowledge, 
mystical  intuition.  Who  but  one  with  some 
degree  of  such  experience  would  write  of — 

dear  and  divine  annihilations  ; 

A  thousand  unknown  rites 

Of  joys,  and  rarified  delights ; 
An   hundred  thousand  goods,  glories  and  graces ; 

And  many  a  mystic  thing. 

Which  the  divine  embraces 
Of  the  dear  Spouse  of  spirits,  with  them  will  bring. 

The  poem  of  Qounsel  strikes  a  still  surer 
note  of  his  own  first-hand  knowledge,  as 
Crashaw  strives  to  win  this  young  soul  to 
forsake  the  world  and  embrace  religion  : — 

Dear,  Heaven  designed  soul  ! 
Amongst  the  rest 


Anglo-Catholk  Mystics  241 

Of  suitors  that  besiege  your  maiden  breast 

Why  may   not  I 

My  fortune  try 
And  venture  to  speak  one  good  word 
Not  for  myself,  alas  !    but  for  my  dearer  Lord  ? 

Truth    bids  me  say  'tis  time   you   cease   to   trust 
Your  soul  to   any  son  of  dust. 
'Tis   time  you  listen   to   a   braver  love, 

Which  from   above 

Calls  you  up   higher 

And   bids   you   come 

And  choose  your  room 
Among  His  own  fair   sons   of  fire ; 

Sweet,  let  me  prophesy  that  at  last  'twill  prove 
Your  wary  love 
Lays  up  his  purer  and  more  precious  vows. 
And  means  them  for  a  far  more  worthy  Spouse 
Than  this  World  of  lies  can  give  you. 

Let  not  my  Lord,  the  mighty  Lover 

Of  souls,  disdain  that  I  discover 
The  hidden  art 
Of  His  high  stratagem  to  win  your  heart  : 

It  was  His  heavenly  art 

Kindly  to  cross  you 

In  your  mistaken  love  ; 
That  at  the  next  remove 
Thence,   He  might  toss  you 
And  strike  your  troubled  heart 
Home  to  Himself,  to  hide  it  in  His  breast 

The  bright  ambrosial  nest 
Of  Love,  of  life  and  everlasting   rest. 
Happy  mistake  ! ' 

'   The  English  Poems  of  Richard  Crashaw,vo\.  ii,  pp.  103-5. 
Edited  and  published  by  J.  R.  Tutin. 

R 


242  English  Mystics 

No  doubt,  in  challenging  the  suggestion 
that  Francis  Thompson  was  indebted  to  De 
Quincey's  Daughter  of  Lebanon  for  the  motive 
of  The  Hound  of  Heaven^  Mr.  Everard  Meynell 
was  right  when  he  wrote  :  "  the  Victorian 
tassels  of  the  earlier  piece  do  not  hide  its 
lessons — *  to  suffer  that  God  should  give  by 
seeming  to  refuse  ' — and  pursuit  is  the  theme 
common  to  both,  and  common  to  writers  of 
most  ages.  De  Quincey  did  no  more  than 
hand  it  on.  From  S.  Augustine's,  '  Thou 
wast  driving  me  on  with  Thy  good,  so  that 
1  could  not  be  at  rest  until  Thou  wast 
manifest  to  the  eye  of  my  soul '  ;  to  Meister 
Eckhart's  *  He  who  will  escape  Him  only 
runs  to  His  bosom,  for  all  corners  are  open 
to  Him,'  and  so  on,  the  idea  is  the  same, 
though  less  elaborated  and  dramatic  than  in 
The  Hound.''  i 

Without  wishing  in  any  way  to  father  The 
Hound  of  Heaven  upon  this  beautiful  poem  of 
Crashaw,  one  can  hardly  help  seeing  striking 
likenesses  both  in  matter  and  form. 

Surely,  without  a  doubt,  the  great,  yet  now 
so  little-known,  Donne,  paradoxical  and  enig- 
matical, was  more  thoroughly  mystical  than 
Crashaw.  Only  a  mystic,  one  who  knew  the 
need  of  purgation,  one  on  whom  the  light  had 
really    shined,   one    who,    however    imperfect, 

'   Everard  Meynell,  Life  of  Francis  Thompson,  p.  165. 


Anglo-CathoUc  Mystics  243 

longed  for  union,  could  have  written  the  Hymn 
to  God  the  Father  : — 

I 

Wilt  Thou  forgive  that  sin  where  I  begun, 

Which  was  my  sin,  though  it  were  done  before  ? 

Wilt  Thou  forgive  that  sin,  through  which  I  run, 
And  do  run  still,  though  still  I  do  deplore  ? 

When  Thou  hast  done.  Thou  hast  not  done, 
For  I  have  more. 

II 

Wilt  Thou  forgive  that  sin  which  I  have  won 
Others  to  sin,  and  made  my  sin  their  door  ? 

Wilt  Thou  forgive  that  sin  which  I  did  shun 
A  year  or  two,  but  wallowed  in  a  score  ? 

When  Thou  hast  done.  Thou  hast  not  done. 
For  I  have  more. 

Ill 

I  have  a  sin  of  fear  that  when  I  have  spun 
My  last  thread,  I  shall  perish  on  the  shore  ; 

But  swear  by  Thyself,  that  at  my  death  Thy  Son 
Shall  shine  as  He  shines  now,  and  heretofore  ; 

And  having  done  that.  Thou  hast  done  ; 
I  fear  no  more.^ 

As  Donne  was,  through  his  mother,  related 
to  Sir  Thomas  More,  it  was  natural  that  he 
should  consider  most  carefully  the  relative 
claims  of  Rome  and  Canterbury  ;  his  studies 
were  prolonged,  many  years  of  secular  life 
(perhaps  less  stained  with  gross  sin  than  he 
himself  in    later  life  thought)  elapsed  before 

'  The  Poems  of  Donne  (The  Muses  Library),  vol.  i,  p.  21  3. 


244  English  Mystics 

he  could  bring  himself  to  take  Holy  Orders, 
as  James  I  so  often  and  so  strenuously  urged 
him  to  doj  and  to  serve  the  Anglican  Church  ; 
a  resolution  which  drew  from  Isaac  Walton 
this  eulogy  in  his  Life  of  Donne  :  "  Now  the 
English  Church  had  gained  a  second  S.  Austin  ; 
for  I  think  none  was  so  like  him  before  his 
conversion,  none  so  like  S.  Ambrose  after  it  ! 
and  if  his  youth  had  the  infirmities  of  the  one, 
his  age  had  the  excellencies  of  the  other  ;  the 
learning  and  holiness  of  both." 

From  this  time  forward  Donne's  life  was 
devout  and  devoted,  and  this  deepened  his 
inborn  mysticism.  The  fine  lines  from  T^he 
Progress  of  the  Soul  might  be  read  as  a  kind 
of  mystical  epitome  of  his  life  : — 

I  will  through  the  wave  and  foam. 
And  shall  in  sad  lone  ways,  a  lively  sprite, 
Make  my  dark  heavy  poem  light,  and  light. 
For  though  through  many  straits  and  lands  I  roam, 
I  launch  at  Paradise,  and  I  sail  towards  home.' 

That  Donne  knew  the  possibility  of  a  swifter, 
surer  knowledge  than  that  which  proceeds  from 
any  process  of  reasoning  is  evident  from  the 
same  poem  : — 

To  an  unfetter'd  soul's  quick  nimble  haste 

Are  falling  stars  and  hearts'  thoughts  but  slow-paced. 

Thinner  than  burnt  air  flies  this  soul.^ 

In  the  opening  lines  of  his  contemplation 


'  ibid.,  vol.  ii,  p.  I  51.  *  op.  cit.,  vol.  ii,  p.  i  57. 


Anglo-CathoUc  Mystics  245 

on  the  death  of  Elizabeth  Drury,  after  com- 
plaining that  the  flesh  bars  the  spirit's  passage,  ^ 
he  sweeps  the  material  world  aside  as  so  much 
dross  : — 

What  fragmentary  rubbish  this  world  is 

Thou  know'st,  and  that  it  is  not  worth  a  thought  ; 

He  honours  it  too  much  that  thinks  it  nought.^ 

In  the  same  poem,  waiting — 

Till  God's  great  Venite  change  the  song, 

in  the  language  of  a  man  who  has  really  seen 
Reality  he  sets  forth  the  only  Way  : — 

Thirst  for  that  time,  O  my  insatiate  soul. 
And  serve  thy  thirst  with  God's  safe-sealing  bowl  ; 
Be  thirsty  still,  and  drink  still  till  thou  go 
To  th'  only  health  ;  to  be  hydroptic  so, 
Forget  this  rotten  world  ;  and  unto  thee 
Let  thine  own  times  as  an  old  story  be. 

The  world  is  but  a  carcass  ;  thou  art  fed 
By  it,  but  as  a  worm  that  carcass  bred. 

Look  upward. 

What  those  who  follow  this  way  can  achieve 
he  declares  when  eulogizing  Mistress  Drury  ; 
he  speaks  of  her  as  one — 

Whose  twilights  were  more  clear  than  our  midday. 

It  may  be  a  relief  to  some  to  turn  from 
Vaughan,    so    often    borne   down    by    private 

^  ibid.,  p.  126.  ^  p.  129. 


246  English  Mystics 

sorrows,  due  largely  to  public  chaos  and  dis- 
tress, and  from  Donne,  whose  dolour  was  partly 
temperamental,  and  not  a  little  due  to  youthful 
indiscretions  in  the  management  of  his  career, 
to  that  singularly  joyous  mystic  who  stands 
apart  in  the  seventeenth  century,  owing  to  his 
capacity  for  realizing  with  the  Psalmist  that — 

In  His  Temple,  everything  saith  Glory  ! 

Thomas  Traherne  is  known,  if  he  can  be 
said  to  be  known  at  all,  by  two  volumes — his 
Centuries  of  Meditation  and  his  Poems.  The 
manuscripts  of  these  fell  eventually  into  the 
hands  of  Mr.  Bertram  Dobell,  having  probably, 
for  many  generations,  been  in  the  possession 
of  family  connections  of  Traherne's  brother 
Philip.  In  1888  this  family  seem  to  have 
parted  with  some  or  all  of  their  property. 
These  particular  manuscripts  were  apparently 
lost  to  sight  and  recollection  for  some  years, 
until  in  1897  Mr.  W.  T.  Brooke  picked  them 
up  for  a  few  pence  from  a  street  bookstall. 
The  great  student  and  critic  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  Dr.  Grosart,  becoming  aware  of  their 
existence,  purchased  them,  and  finally  assigned 
them  to  the  poet  he  loved  so  well,  Henry 
Vaughan.  When  Dr.  Grosart's  Library  was 
disposed  of,  Mr.  Dobell  bought  these  two,  and 
later  on  he  found  and  bought  a  third  volume 
in  the  same  handwriting,  from  a  part  of  Dr. 
Grosart's  Library  sold  to  Sotheby.     But  Mr. 


Anglo-Catholic  Mystics  247 

Dobell,  surely  with  true  critical  insight,  per- 
ceived that  "  whoever  might  have  been  their 
author,  they  were  assuredly  not  written  by  the 
Silurist";!  and  having  given  several  cogent 
reasons  for  his  decision,  he  concludes  thus  : 
"With  Traherne  all  nature  is  bathed  in  warmth 
and  light  :  with  Vaughan  we  feel  sensible  of 
a  certain  coolness  of  temperament,  and  are 
conscious  that  he  rejoices  rather  in  the  twi- 
light than  in  the  radiance  of  noonday."  2 

But  Traherne's  characteristic  is  more  than 
fervour  or  enthusiasm  (both  of  which  Mr. 
Dobell  attributes  to  him),  more  than  "  warmth 
and  light."  Traherne  "  sees  all  things  to- 
gether," like  Plato's  Synoptikos,  and  seeing 
them,  rejoices  and  triumphs  in  the  sight.  He 
holds  out  eager  hands,  like  a  child,  to  the 
glories  of  the  visible  world,  but,  unlike  many 
children,  he  never  tires  of  his  Toys.  An  inex- 
tinguishable joyousness  suffuses  him,  the 
world,  all  things  ;  and  his  songs  and  his 
embroidered  and  illumined  prose  rise  like 
a  song  of  praise  and  thanksgiving  to  the 
Maker   of  it  all. 

Convinced  that  Vaughan  never  wrote  any 
of  it,  prose  or  poem,  Mr.  Dobell  patiently 
pursued  literary  clues,  till  he  finally  established 
the  authorship  of  Traherne,  who,  born  about 

^   The  Poetical  Works  of  Thomas  Traherne,  p.  xc.     Edited 
by  Bertram  Dobell. 
^  ibid.,  p.  xci. 


248  English  Mystics 

1636,  and  dying  in  1674,  proved  to  be  not 
only  the  writer  of  the  Qenturies  and  the  Poems ^ 
but  of  more  or  less  well-known  polemical 
works,  Roman  Forgeries  and  Christian  Ethics. 

Traherne's  private  life  was  quiet  and 
ordinary  in  the  extreme.  He  was  the  son 
of  a  Hereford  shoemaker,  and  becoming  a 
commoner  of  Brasenose,  took  his  B.A.  about 
1 66 1,  and  in  due  course  his  M.A.  Having 
been  presented  to  the  Rectory  of  Credenill, 
now  Credenhill,  near  Hereford,  in  1669,  he 
proceeded  to  take  his  B.D.  Two  years 
earlier  he  had  been  appointed  Chaplain  to 
Sir  Orlando  Bridgman,  Lord  Keeper  of  the 
Seals.  When  the  Lord  Keeper,  five  years 
later,  was  deprived  of  the  seals,  because  he 
would  not  truckle  to  the  Court  Party,  he 
retired,  with  his  chaplain,  to  Teddington,  and 
there,  two  years  later,  Traherne  died. 

If  one  thing  be  more  certain  than  another, 
it  is  that  mysticism  is  wholly  independent 
of  all  material  circumstances.  "  The  Spirit 
bloweth  where  it  listeth  " — in  court,  or  camp, 
on  the  high  seas,  in  the  remote  depths  of  the 
country  :  "  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor,  one 
with  another,"  is  the  only  true  description  of 
the  whole  company  of  the  mystics. 

These  two  manuscripts,  so  perilously 
hazarded  on  the  waves  of  this  troublesome 
world,  garnered  at  last  by  a  scholar,  who,  as 
he  himself  acknowledges,  may  not  have  fully 


Anglo-Catholic  Mystics  249 

grasped  their  meaning,  since  his  standpoint  is 
so  unlike  the  author's,  contain  some  of  the 
most  individual  thought  ever  set  down  in  the 
English  tongue,  a  proof,  if  need  be,  that  "  the 
Light  which  lighteth  every  man  coming  into 
the  world  "  illuminates  according  to  the 
response  of  the  recipient  soul,  and  not  only 
in  accordance  with  the  environing  world  ;  for 
there  was  nothing  particularly  favourable  to 
mysticism  in  Traherne's  worldly  circumstances. 
Nevertheless,  though  one  may  call  him 
unique,  it  is  not  to  be  forgotten  that  he  was 
steeped  in  the  thought  of  that  other  Thomas, 
called  a  Kempis,  and  that,  odd  as  the  fact  may 
appear,  he  has  struck  one  critic  as  comparable 
though  superior  to  Father  Augustine  Baker  : 
"  The  nearest  parallel,  in  the  English  literature 
of  the  time,  to  the  Sancta  Sophia  of  Baker  is 
the  Centuries  of  Meditation  of  Thomas  Tra- 
herne,  yet  Traherne  above  all  things  is  an 
Anglican."  ^  And  again  :  "  It  is  only  necessary 
to  compare  it"  [Sancta  Sophia)  "with  the 
Meditations  of  Traherne  to  see  how  much 
the  wider  outlook  of  the  English  Churchman 
has  affected  the  literary  expression  given  to 
thoughts  that  were  common  to  meditative 
souls."  2 

'  Cambridge  History  of  English  Literature,  vol.  vii,  ch,  vi, 
p.  143,  "Caroline  Divines,"  by  the  Rev.  W.  H.  Hutton, 
B.D.  (now  Dean  of  Winchester). 

2  ibid. 


250  English  Mystics 

Perhaps  Traherne's  most  striking  and  most 
lasting  claim  to  unique  distinction  is  the  fact 
that  to  a  profoundly  spiritual  apprehension  of 
God  he  united  an  indestructible  love  for  and 
sense  of  intimate  union  with  the  so-called 
material  universe,  as  being  God's  handiwork  : 
"  We  needed  heaven  and  earth,  our  senses, 
such  souls  and  bodies,  with  infinite  riches  in 
the  Image  of  God  to  be  enjoyed  :  which  God 
of  His  mercy  having  freely  prepared,  they  are 
most  happy  that  so  live  in  the  enjoyment  of 
those,  as  to  need  no  accidental  trivial  things, 
no  Splendours,  Pomps,  and  Vanities.  Socrates 
perhaps,  being  a  heathen,  knew  not  that  all 
things  proceeded  from  God  to  man,  and  by 
man  returned  to  God  :  but  we  that  know  it 
must  need  all  things  as  God  doth,  that  we 
may  receive  them  with  joy,  and  live  in  His 
image."  ' 

Traherne  does  not  separate,  he  is  no  divider: 
the  deep  mysteries  of  religion  and  the  beauties 
of  the  natural  world  make  one  great  indivisible 
whole  to  this  rapt  seer,  who  perceived  himself 
to  be  "  the  sole  heir  of  the  world."  2 

"  Would  men  consider  what  God  hath  done 
they  would  be  ravished  in  spirit  with  the  glory 
of  His  doings.  For  heaven  and  earth  are  full 
of  the  majesty  of  His  glory.  And  how  happy 
would  men  be  if  they  could  see  and  enjoy  it  ! 

'   Centuries  of  Meditation,  i.  40.  ^  ibid.,  i.  xxix. 


Anglo- Catholic  Mystics  251 

But  above  all  these  our  Saviour's  Cross  is  the 
throne  of  delights.  That  Centre  of  Eternity, 
that  Tree  of  Life  in  the  midst  of  the  Paradise 
of  God  ! 

"  There  are  we  entertained  with  the  wonder 
of  all  ages.  There  we  enter  into  the  heart  of  the 
um)>erse.''  ^ 

In  another  wonderful  phrase,  in  his  long 
eulogy  on  the  Cross  :  "That  cross  is  a  tree  set 
on  fire  with  invisible  flame,  that  illuminateth  all 
the  world.  The  flame  is  Love,  the  Love  in 
His  bosom  Who  died  on  it,"  2  Traherne 
reminds  us  of  the  "  beautiful  Tree  of  Glory  " 
which  Cynewulf  described  in  Slene  ;  and  so, 
one  after  another,  the  mystics  prove  their 
kinship  through  the  ages,  prove  that  saintship 
does  not  ever  die  among  us,  however  inarticu- 
late the  ordinary  Englishman  may  sometimes 
seem  to  be. 

An  American  psychologist.  Dr.  Bucke,  has 
presumed  to  fix  the  age  when  illumination,  or 
as  he  prefers  to  call  it  "  cosmic  consciousness," 
occurs,  viz.  between  the  ages  of  thirty  and 
forty.  He  adds,  '*  Should  we  hear  of  a  case 
of  cosmic  consciousness  occurring  at  twenty, 
for  instance,  we  should  at  first  doubt  the  truth 
of  the  account,  and  if  forced  to  believe  it  we 
should  expect  the  man  (if  he  lived)  to  prove 
himself  in  some  way  a  spiritual  giant."  3 

'  ibid.,  i.  55,  56.  2  ibid.,  i.  60. 

3  R.  M.  Bucke,  Cosmic  Consciousness,  p.  62. 


252  English  Mystics 

How  then  account  for  Traherne  ?  who  in 
the  third  "  Century  "  of  his  Meditations  writes 
so  simply:  "Those  pure  and  virgin  apprehen- 
sions I  had  from  the  womb,  and  that  divine 
light  wherewith  I  was  born  are  the  best  unto 
this  day,  wherein  I  can  see  the  Universe.  By 
the  gift  of  God  they  attended  me  into  the 
world,  and  by  His  special  favour  I  remember 
them  till  now."  ^ 

What  these  "  apprehensions  "  were  he  indi- 
cates in  a  glorious  passage,  descriptive  of  the 
world  as  it  appeared  to  him  in  childhood  : — 

"  The  corn  was  orient  and  immortal  wheat, 
which  never  should  be  reaped,  nor  was  ever 
sown.  I  thoutjht  it  had  stood  from  everlast- 
ing  to  everlasting.  The  dust  and  stones 
of  the  street  were  as  precious  as  gold,  the 
gates  were  at  first  the  ends  of  the  world. 
The  green  trees  when  I  saw  them  first,  through 
one  of  the  gates,  transported  and  ravished  me. 
.  .  .  Boys  and  girls  tumbling  in  the  street, 
and  playing,  were  moving  jewels.  I  knew  not 
that  they  were  born  or  should  die.  But  all 
things  abided  eternally  as  they  were  in  their 
proper  places.  Eternity  was  manifest  in  the 
Light  of  the  Day.  .  .  .  The  streets  were, 
mine  the  temple  was  mine,  the  people  were 
mine.  .   .  . 

"  The  skies  were  mine,  and  so  were  the  sun 

'  Centuries  of  Meditation,  iii.  i. 


Anglo-Catholk  Mystics  253 

and  moon  and  stars,  and  all  the  World  was 
mine,  and  I  the  only  spectator  and  enjoyer 
of  it.  1  knew  no  churlish  proprieties,  nor 
bounds,  nor  divisions  ;  but  all  proprieties  and 
divisions  were  mine  ;  all  treasures  and  the 
possessors  of  them.  So  that  with  much  ado 
I  was  corrupted,  and  made  to  learn  the  dirty 
devices  of  this  world,  which  now  I  unlearn, 
and  become,  as  it  were,  a  little  child  again  that 
I  may  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God."  ' 

The  same  joy  of  infancy  he  expresses  in  his 
poem  called  Wonder^  in  stanzas  one,  two,  and 
five.2 

So  in  his  infancy  this  true  mystic  grasped 
the  truth  which  much  later  in  life  he  wrote 
down  in  words  :  "  All  transient  things  are 
permanent  in  God."  3  He  grasped  too  that 
other  truth  known  to  every  mystic  that  the 
light  of  the  day  and  the  light  of  man's  soul 
are  alike  set  on  fire  by  the  Eternal  Light  : 
"  Eternity  was  manifest  in  the  light  of  the 
Day "  ;  or  as  Thomas  Browne  wrote  in  a 
shining  sentence  of  the  Hydriotaphia^  "  Life 
is  a  pure  flame,  and  we  live  by  an  invisible 
sun  within  us."  4 

Traherne    describes    the     infrangible    bond 

^    ibid.,  iii.  3. 

^  The  Poetical  Works  of  Thomas  Traherne,  edited  by 
Bertram   Dobell,  pp.  4  and    5. 

3  Qenturies  of  ^Meditation,  i.  62. 

4  Urn  Burial,  ch.  v,  §  l  3. 


254  English  Mystics 

between  God  and  man's  soul  by  yet  another 
image  :  "  As  iron  at  a  distance  is  drawn  by 
the  loadstone,  there  being  some  invisible  com- 
munications between  them,  so  is  there  in  us  a 
world  of  love  to  somewhat,  though  we  know 
not  what  in  the  world  it  should  be.  There 
are  invisible  ways  of  conveyance  by  which 
some  great  thing  doth  touch  our  souls,  and  by 
which  we  tend  to  it."  ^ 

Over  and  over  his  special  mystical  attitude 
recurs.  It  is  not  just  the  bare  "  flight  of  the 
alone  to  the  Alone  "  on  which  he  insists  ;  but 
always  he  finds  God  because  he  (Traherne)  is 
and  must  be  a  unit  in  the  great  God-created 
whole.  There  is  no  trace  about  him  of  being 
"  saved  alone."  "You  never  enjoy  the  world," 
he  cries,  "  till  you  .  .  .  perceive  yourself  to  be 
the  sole  heir  of  the  whole  world,  and  more 
than  so  because  men  are  in  it  who  are  every 
one  sole  heir  as  well  as  you."  2 

What  the  world  really  is,  and  what  our  way 
of  realizing  it  is,  he  describes  thus  :  "  The 
World  is  unknown  till  the  Value  and  Glory  of 
it  is  seen.  .  .  .  When  you  enter  into  it,  it  is  an 
illimited  field  of  Variety  and  Beauty,  where  you 
may  lose  yourself  in  the  multitude  of  Wonders 
and  Delights.  But  it  is  an  happy  loss  to  lose 
one's  self  in  admiration  of  one's  own  Felicity, 
and  to  find  God  in  exchange  for  oneself."  3 

^  Qenturies  of  Meditation,  i.2.  ^i.29.  3i.i8. 


Anglo-CathoUc  Mystics  255 

Yet  that  Is  the  "world  as  God  has  made 
it."  Traherne  is  well  aware  that  there  is 
a  misused,  misdirected  world  of  human 
manufacture,  whose  condition  and  effects  are 
widely  different. 

The  third  "  Century  "  is  filled  with  recollec- 
tions of  the  unmarred  delight  of  his  first 
entrance  into  the  world,  of  his  gradual  disillu- 
sionment as  he  was  forced  "to  learn  the  dirty 
devices  of  this  world  "  ;  and  then  of  his  struggle 
to  regain  his  early  state  of  stainless  joy.  He 
has  included  in  his  prose  Centuries^  a  poem 
in  which  he  sets  forth  all  this  theme,  concen- 
trating it  in  two  stanzas  : — 

He  in  our  childhood  with  us  walks, 
And  with  our  thoughts  mysteriously  He  talks  ; 

He  often  visiteth  our  minds, 
And  cold  acceptance  in  us  ever  finds  : 

We  send  Him  often  grieved  away, 
Who  else  would  show  us  all  His  kingdom's  joy. 

O  Lord,  I  wonder  at  Thy  love, 

Which  did  my  infancy  so  early  move  ; 

And  more  at  that  which  did  forbear 

And  move  so  long,  though  slighted  many  a  year  : 

But  most  of  all,  at  last  that  Thou 

Thyself  should'st  me  convert,  I  scarce  know  how. 

The  essence  of  Traherne's  mysticism,  his 
theory — if  so  stiff"  a  word  may  be  applied  to  so 
ethereal  a  thing — of  it  is  to  be  found  at  its 
highest  in  his  poems.  Infancy,  to  him,  seemed 
a  most  blessed  state,  because    freed  from  all 


256  English  Mystics 

impediment  of  the  senses,  senses  not  yet 
awakened  to  their  work.  He  felt  that  his  soul, 
in  those  early  days,  was  face  to  face  with  the 
world's  beauty,  which  to  him  was  the  very 
raiment  of  God.  In  the  poem  called  'Dumb- 
ness ^  he  cries  : — 

Sure  Man  was  born  to  meditate  on  things, 
And  to  contemplate  the  eternal  springs 
Of  God  and  Nature,  glory,  bliss,  and  pleasure  ; 
That  life  and  love  might  be  his  heavenly  treasure. 

Immediately,  he  goes  on  to  thank  God  that 
in  infancy  he  was  made  speechless,  deaf,  unable 
to  comprehend  human  language  : — 

no  work 
But  one  was  found  .  ,  . 
D'ye  ask  me  what  ?  .  .  . 

'twas  to  inherit  endless  treasure, 
And  to  be  filled  with  everlasting  pleasure  : 
To  reign  in  silence  and  to  sing  alone. 
To  see,  love,  covet,  have,  enjoy,  and  praise  in  one. 
To  prize  and  to  be  ravish'd  ;  to  be  true. 
Sincere,  and  single  in  a  blessed  view 
Of  all  His  gifts  .  .  . 

the  Earth  did  undertake 
The  office  of  a  priest,  and  I  being  dumb 
(Nothing  besides  was  dumb)  all  things  did  come 
With  voices  and  instructions. 

His  first  state  is  one  of  entire  purity  and 
'  Poetical  fFor{s  of  Thomas  Traherne,  p.  34. 


Anglo- Catholic  Mystics  257 

innocence,   so   he  maintained,    over  and    over 
again  : — 

I  felt  no  stain  nor  spot  of  sin, 
No  darkness  then  did  overshade 
But  all  within  was  pure  and  bright, 
No  guilt  did  crush  nor  fear  invade. 
But  all  my  soul  was  full  of  light.  ' 

His  most  beautiful  account  of  the  state  of 
childhood  is  to  be  found  in  The  Approach^  part 
of  which  I  have  quoted  ;  it  is  the  poem  he 
printed  in  the  Centuries  : — 

He  in  our  childhood  with  us  walks, 
And  with  our  thoughts  mysteriously  He  talks  ; 

He  often  visiteth  our  minds. 
But  cold  acceptance  in  us  ever  finds  : 

We  send  Him  often  grieved  away. 
Else  He  would  show  us  all  His  kingdom's  joy. 

From  nothing  taken  first  I  was  ; 
What  wondrous  things  His  glory  brought  to  pass  ! 

Now  in  this  world  I  Him  behold, 
And  me  enveloped  in  more  than  gold  ; 

In  deep  abysses  of  delights, 
In  present  hidden  precious  benefits.^ 

Traherne  traces  here  quite  plainly  the  path- 
way along  which  vision  came  to  him  :  he  was 
one  of  those  souls  who  find  God  through  and 
in  the  world  of  created,  material  things  ;  the 
immanence   leading  on  to  the    transcendence, 

^   ibid.,  p.  II.  ^  pp.  31,  33. 


258  English  Mystics 

for  his  way  is  not  that  of  pantheism.  God,  to 
him,  is  in  the  world,  but  infinitely  beyond  and 
outside  it  too. 

Nevertheless,  brought  though  he  was  by 
this  beautiful  way,  Traherne  cannot  keep  in 
it,  save  by  the  hard  way,  common  to  the 
mystics,  the  way  of  purgation  : — 

Spue  out  thy  filth,  thy  flesh  abjure  ; 
Let  not  contingents  thee  defile. 

Unfelt,  unseen  let  those  things  be 
Which  to  thy  spirit  were  unknown, 
When  to  thy  blessed  infancy 
The  world,  thyself,  thy  God  was  shown.  ' 

But  we  are  not  to  think  of  Traherne  as 
one  whose  whole  attention  was  centred  on  the 
external  world.  Even  if  he  were  more  than 
usually  "extroverted,"  to  use  Father  Augustine 
Baker's  word,  surely  he  also  had  the  "pro- 
pensity." In  his  poem  Silence  he  bids  us 
withdraw  into  the  cell  of  self-knowledge  : — 

A  quiet  silent  person  may  possess 
All   that  is  great  and   high  in   Blessedness. 
The  inward  work  is  the  supreme  :  for  all 
The  other  were  occasioned  by  the  fall. 
A  man  that  seemeth  idle  to  the  view 
Of  others,  may  the  greatest  business  do.  ^ 

There  is  the  mystic's  secret,  the  justification 
of    the    contemplative.       Probably    Traherne 

'   ibid.,  p.  19.  2  p.  38. 


Anglo-Catholic  Mystics  259 

would  agree  that  the  original  perception  of 
God  through  the  beauty  of  the  outward  world 
is  a  form  of  illumination.  That  must  be 
helped  before  it  comes,  as  a  preparation  for 
it  and  all  along  the  way,  by  constant  pur- 
gation, and  by  this  quiet  withdrawal  into  the 
inner  cell  of  self-knowledge.  Then  the  end 
of  it  all   is,  at  last,  the  Vision  of  God  : — 

Flight  is  but  the  preparative.      The  sight 

Is  deep  and  infinite. 
Ah  me  !  'tis   all  the  glory,  love,  light,  space, 

Joy,  beauty,  and  variety 
That  doth  adorn  the  Godhead's  dwelling-place. 

From   one,    to   one,   in   one  to   see  all   things. 

To   see  the  King  of  Kings 
But   once   in  two  ;  to  see  His  endless  treasures 

Made   all   mine   own,    myself  the   end 
Of  all    His  labours  !      'Tis   the  life  of  pleasures  ! 

To  see  myself  His  friend  ! 
Who   all   things   finds   conjoined    to   Him    alone 

Sees  and   enjoys   the   Holy  One.' 

It  is  a  vain  hope  to  do  anything  like  justice 
to  so  large  a  matter  as  English  Mysticism  in 
one  small  volume.  But  it  is  out  of  the  ques- 
tion to  omit  Bunyan  altogether,  if  it  were  only 
for  the  sake  of  one  passage  which  shows  a  soul 
at  the  very  polar  opposite  from  Traherne, 
who  owed  so  much  to  the  friendliness  ot 
«  Nature." 

'  pp.  21,  23. 


26o  English  Mystics 

Oppressed  from  his  boyhood  by  the  sense 
of  sin,  and  Bunyan  tells  us  he  was  so  when 
"  but  nine  or  ten  years  old,"  though  withal 
he  had  "  but  few  equals  for  cursing,  swearing, 
lying,  and  blaspheming  the  Name  of  God,"  ^ 
yet  left  to  his  own  interpretation  of  the  Bible, 
he  could  find  no  way  of  escape. 

It  is  quite  impossible,  I  think,  to  deny 
Bunyan  a  place  among  the  mystics  :  flight 
and  pursuit  fill  the  earlier  pages  of  Qrace 
Abounding.  He  quotes,  for  example,  the 
passage  from  Job,  "  Then,  I  said  unto  God, 
Depart  from  me,  for  I  desire  not  the  know- 
ledge of  Thy  ways,"  2  and  he  quotes  it  as 
representing  accurately,  at  one  period,  his 
own  condition  of  mind.  Yet,  two  paragraphs 
further  on,  he  declares  :  "  But  God  did  not 
utterly  leave  me,  but  followed  me  still,  not 
now  with  Convictions,  but  Judgements,  yet 
such  as  were  mixed  with  Mercy." 

Flight  and  pursuit  were  still  the  story  of 
his  spiritual  life  long  after  he  had  come  to 
man's  estate,  and  carried  all  the  responsibilities 
of  married  life  on  his  shoulders.  Having 
heard  a  sermon  condemning  Sunday  games, 
long  a  special  temptation  to  him,  Bunyan 
rebelled  :  "  I  shook  the  Sermon  out  of  my 
Mind,  and  to  my  old  Custom  of  Sports  and 
Games  I  returned  with  great  Delight. 

'   (jrace  Abounding,  §  4.  "  ibid.,  §  10. 


Anglo-Catholk  Mystics  261 

"But  the  same  day,  as  I  was  in  the  midst  of 
a  game  of  Cat,  and  having  struck  it  one  blow 
from  the  Hole,  just  as  I  was  about  to  strike  it 
the  second  time,  a  Voice  did  suddenly  dart  from 
Heaven  into  my  Soul,  Wilt  thou  leci)>e  thy  sins 
and  go  to  Heaven  or  have  thy  sins  and  go  to 
Hell?  At  this  1  was  put  to  an  exceeding 
Maze.  Wherefore,  leaving  my  Cat  upon  the 
ground,  I  looked  up  to  Heaven,  and  was  as  if 
I  had  with  the  Eyes  of  my  Understanding 
seen  the  Lord  Jesus  looking  down  upon 
me.    I 

Who  can  pretend  that  this  experience  is 
outside  the  realm  of  mysticism  .''  Who  can 
wonder  that  mystical  experience  should  be 
bestowed  on  a  man  who,  having  read  "  some 
Ranters'  'Books  that  were  put  forth  by  some 
of  our  Countrymen^''  and  found  himself  after 
reading  them  "  not  able  to  make  a  Judgement 
about  them,"  cries  out  in  his  bewildered  misery, 
"  0  Lord  J  I  am  a  fool^  and  not  able  to  knoyo  the 
Truth  from  Error ;  Lord^  lea')>e  me  not  to  mine 
own  Blindness,  either  to  appro')>e  of  or  condemn  this 
Doctrine.  If  it  be  of  Qod,  let  me  not  despise  it ; 
if  it  be  of  the  Devil^  let  me  not  embrace  it.  Lord^ 
I  lay  my  Soul,  in  this  matter^  only  at  Thy  foot ; 
let  me  not  be  deceived.,  I  humbly  beseech  Thee."  2 

The  particular  passage,  relating  how  it 
seemed    to    him    that,    owing   to  his  state    of 

*  ibid,,  §  22.  2  ibid.,  §  44. 


262  English  Mystics 

sin,  all  nature  turned  from  him,  forming  as  it 
does  a  strange  contrast  to  Traherne's  approach 
through  nature,  is  a  long  one.  But  as  Grace 
Abounding,  albeit  it  is  one  of  the  great  "  Con- 
fessions "  of  the  world,  has  perhaps  fewer 
readers  now  even  than  The  Pilgrim's  Progress 
I  will  quote  it  here  : — 

"  I  saw,  indeed,  that  sin  might  drive  the 
soul  beyond  Christ,  even  the  sin  which  is 
unpardonable  ;  but  woe  to  him  that  was  so 
driven,  for  the  Word  would  shut  him  out. 

"  Thus  was  I  always  sinking,  whatever 
I  did  think  or  do.  So  one  day  I  walked  to 
a  neighbouring  Town,  and  sat  down  upon 
a  Settle  in  the  Street,  and  fell  into  a  very 
deep  pause  about  the  most  fearful  state  my 
sin  had  brought  me  to  ;  and  after  long  musing, 
I  lifted  up  my  head,  but  methought  I  saw  as 
if  the  Sun  that  shineth  in  the  Heavens  did 
grudge  to  give  light,  and  as  if  the  very  Stones 
in  the  Street,  and  Tiles  upon  the  Houses,  did 
bend  themselves  against  me  ;  methought  that 
they  all  combined  together  to  banish  me  out 
of  the  World.  I  was  abhorred  of  them,  and 
unfit  to  dwell  among  them,  or  be  partaker  of 
their  benefits,  because  1  had  sinned  against 
the  Saviour.  O  how  happy,  now,  was  every 
creature  over  I  was  !  For  they  stood  fast  and 
kept  their  station,  but  I  was  gone  and  lost. 

"  Then  breaking  out  in  the  bitterness  of  my 
soul,   I   said   to  myself,  with  a  grievous  sigh. 


Anglo-Catholic  Mystics  263 

How  can  God  comfort  such  a  yoretch  as  I  ?  I  had 
no  sooner  said  it  but  this  returned  upon  me, 
as  an  echo  doth  answer  a  voice,  *  This  sin  is  not 
unto  death.'  At  which  I  was  as  if  1  had  been 
raised  out  of  a  Grave,  and  cried  out  again, 
Lord^  ho^Q  couldest  Thou  find  out  such  a  vi>ord 
as  this  ?  For  I  was  filled  with  admiration  at 
the  fitness,  and,  also,  at  the  unexpectedness 
of  the  sentence.  The  fitness  of  the  Word, 
the  rightness  of  the  timing  of  it,  the  power 
and  sweetness,  and  light  and  glory  that  came 
with  it,  also,  were  marvellous  to  me  to  find. 
I  was  now,  for  the  time,  out  of  doubt  as  to 
that  about  which  I  so  much  was  in  doubt 
before.  My  fears  before  'were,  that  my  sin 
was  not  pardonable,  and  so  that  I  had  no 
right  to  pray,  to  repent,  etc.,  or  that  if  I  did, 
it  would  be  of  no  advantage  or  profit  to  me. 
But  now,  thought  I,  if  this  sin  is  not  unto 
death,  then  it  is  pardonable  ;  therefore,  from 
this,  I  have  encouragement  to  come  to  God, 
by  Christ,  for  mercy  ;  to  consider  the  promise 
of  forgiveness  as  that  which  stands  with  open 
arms  to  receive  me,  as  well  as  others.  This, 
therefore,  was  a  great  easement  to  my  mind  ; 
to  wit,  that  my  sin  was  pardonable,  that  it  was 
not  the  sin  unto  death.  None  but  those  that 
know  what  my  trouble,  by  their  own  experi- 
ence, was,  can  tell  what  relief  came  to  my  Soul 
by  this  consideration.  It  was  a  release  to  me 
from    my    former    bonds,   and  a   shelter   from 


264  English  Mystics 

my  former  storm.  I  seemed  now  to  stand 
upon  the  same  ground  with  other  sinners, 
and  to  have  as  good  a  right  to  the  Word  and 
Prayer  as  any  of  them."  ^ 

As  we  read  this,  however  strange  the  lan- 
guage may  seem  to  some  of  us,  the  natural 
burning  words  of  his  humble  prayer  steal  back 
to  us  :  "  Lord  J  I  lay  my  soul^  in  this  matter,  only  at 
Thy  foot :  let  me  not  be  deceived,  I  humbly  beseech 
Theey  The  faith  of  the  most  stalwart  saint 
must  falter  were  such  total,  confident  self- 
surrender  unavailing,  if  such  a  compelling 
petition  could  really  die  away  unheard,  un- 
answered on  the  empty  air.  Illumination, 
vision,  must  eventually  come  to  crown  with 
victory's  reward  such  complete  yielding  of 
the  whole  man. 

Bunyan  did  not  walk  along  the  path  of  the 
Church's  appointed  means  ;  but  it  is  hard  to 
believe  that  the  great  visionaries — S.  Ignatius, 
S.  Teresa,  Richard  Rolle — have  not  found  in 
him  a  kindred  soul. 

The  seventeenth  century,  rich  as  it  already 
is,  is  still  an  age  which  seems  destined  to  reveal 
perpetually  fresh  treasures.  Following  close 
on  the  finding  of  Thomas  Traherne's  lost 
writings  came  the  discovery  of  the  buried 
work  of  a  priest,  Richard  White,  for  many 
years    confessor  of  a    monastery  at    Louvain. 

I   (^race  J  bounding,  §§  186-8. 


Anglo-Catholic  Mystics  265 

The  manuscript,  Celestial  Fire^^  was  in  the 
possession  of  a  member  of  the  Ferrar  family, 
of  Little  Gidding  ;  and  having  been  found 
recently,  was  after  much  labour  traced  to 
Father  White.  Among  the  mystics  he  is 
slightly  singular,  because  his  approach  is 
specially  directed  to  our  Lord  the  Holy 
Ghost — a  direction  far  rarer  than  it  should 
be  among  all  men  in  all  times. 

The  book,  so  long  hidden,  forgotten,  ad- 
dressed to  his  "  dearest  friends  " — probably 
a  community  of  nuns  at  Newton  Abbot — as 
a  legacy,  is  a  series  of  meditations  on  the 
sequence — 

Veni,  Sancte  Spiritus, 
Et  emitte  Coelltus 
Lucis  tuae  radium 

of  the  Mass  of  Pentecost. 

Taking  the  Golden  Sequence,  line  by  line, 
this  priest  spun  round  it  the  confession  of  his 
sense  of  his  own  sin  and  worthlessness,  and 
his  lowly  penitence  there  for,  using  it  as  a 
vehicle  for  his  aspirations,  his  fiery  love,  his 
intense  longing  for  illumination  of  spirit,  and 
for  final  union  with  God. 

It  is  one  of  those  perfect  books  of  devotion 
which  suffer  irreparably  when  they  are  cut  into 

'  Edited  in  1913  by  E.  M.  Green,  with  an  Introduc- 
tion by  Father  Congreve.     (Published  by  Longmans.) 


266  English  Mystics 

fragments  for  the  purposes  of  quotation  ;  still, 
perhaps  these  two  passages  may  be  given  here 
just  to  show  what  manner  of  man  he  was,  how 
he  strove  to  purge  himself,  that  his  tiny  spark 
might  at  last  be  drawn  up  to  the  consuming 
Flame  which  is  God  ;  just  to  win,  if  possible, 
fresh  readers  for  a  book  which  is  not  surpassed 
in  intensity  of  devotion  by  any  other,  even  of 
its  own  significant  and  perhaps  unparalleled 
era  :  "/«  Lahore  recjuies.  ...  I  am  poor  and 
have  been  toiled  with  labours  from  my  youth, 
with  labours  not  of  virtue  but  iniquity,  in  which 
I  have  wasted  the  morning  of  my  life,  the  best 
and  greatest  portion  of  my  days  ;  wherewith 
1  have  tired  the  faculties  of  soul  and  body  and 
almost  consumed  myself.  .  .  . 

"  I  knew  my  labours,  and,  through  a 
vicious  disposition  which  possessed  me,  loved 
them  ;  but  Thee  I  neither  loved  nor  knew, 
Who  art  to  all  who  seek  Thee,  in  lahore 
requies. 

"  But  now,  since  Thou,  Who  art  the  finger 
of  God's  right  hand,  hath  pleased  to  touch  my 
heart  and  impart  one  glimpse  of  light  unto  my 
soul,  I  begin  to  see  the  lewdness  of  my  youth 
and  blindness  of  my  former  days  :  fain  would 
I  now  return  and  leave  the  servitude  I  have 
been  in,  but  my  imperious  masters  hinder  me  ; 
my  former  evils  fasten  me  to  the  earth  ;  ill 
customs  turned  into  necessity,  they  have 
chained  me  to  my  thraldom.  .  .  .  Come,  let  me 


Anglo-Catholic  Mystics  267 

repose  in  Thee,  Who  only  art  the  rest  in 
labour."  ^ 

Since  the  whole  book  is  a  series  of  medita- 
tions on  this  Sequence,  the  course  of  Father 
White's  thought  is  necessarily  determined  by 
the  order  of  the  several  petitions  ;  therefore 
his  petition  for  union  comes  first  :  "  Veni^ 
Sancte  Spiritus.  Come,  Holy  Spirit,  come  all 
in  fire,  that  Thou  mayst  inflame  me,  that  Thou 
mayst  consume  me  wholly,  for  Thou  art  a  con- 
suming fire.  Fire  converts  into  itself  whatever 
approaches  it  :  Thou  art  that  fire  which  our 
Saviour  came  to  cast  into  this  world  :  come, 
therefore,  and  convert  me  into  Thyself,  that 
I  may  be  all  on  fire,  all  a  flame  of  Divine 
Love,  and  that  no  thought  may  live  within 
my  heart  but  of  the  love  of  God,  love  of  my 
neighbour  :  that  all  I  tend  to  may  be  love, 
and  what  concerns  not  love  I  may  be  a 
stranger  to."  2 

For  different  reasons,  but  equally  justly, 
France  and  England  alike  regard  the  seven- 
teenth century  as  a  period  in  their  literature 
of  rare  fruitfulness  and  beauty.  As  we  linger 
at  the  century's  close  in  our  own  country,  and 
turn  our  memory  backwards  over  the  mystical 
writings  which  are  oases  of  peace  and  inexpress- 
ible joy  in  a  desert  of  strife  and  loss,  some  of 
us,  possibly,  may  pick  out  Gertrude  More  as 

'  Qelestial  Fire,  ch.  ix.  *  ibid.,  ch.  i. 


2  68  English  Mystics 

being,  so  far  as  we  fallible  mortals  can  dare  to 
judge,  the  most  exquisite  spirit  of  all  that 
small  illuminated  band. 

While  Spain,  and  with  Spain  the  rest  of  the 
world,  has  preserved  the  details  and  cherished 
the  memory  of  S.  Teresa's  life,  Gertrude  More 
has  fallen  out  of  the  recollection  of  all  but 
a  few.  It  is  worse  than  silly  to  attempt  to 
put  saints  in  lists  of  merit.  Yet,  without 
dreaming  of  such  a  folly,  one  may  perhaps 
legitimately  suggest  that  this  member  of  the 
More  family,  a  family  remarkable  at  once  for 
sanctity,  brains,  and  wit,  is  a  most  wonderful 
soul  even  in  the  roll  of  the  saints.  Sometimes 
we  English  are  so  extravagantly  wasteful  of 
treasure.  Here,  in  this  case,  we  executed  one 
and  forgot  the  other,  and  did  little  to  help  the 
collateral  Donne  ;  and  the  majority  still  go  on 
their  unheeding  way,  ready  as  ever  to  kill  the 
prophets  and  stone  them  that  are  sent  unto 
them. 

No  one  can  wish  less  than  I  to  belittle  that 
most  dear  and  great  saint,  Teresa  de  Jesus  ; 
nevertheless  there  are  qualities  in  Dame  Ger- 
trude which,  I  think,  make  her  worthy  of 
a  place  in  our  affections  at  S.  Teresa's  side. 
The  latter's  well-known  motto  was.  Let  me 
suffer  or  die.  Really,  sincerely  said,  that  is 
very,  very  hard,  and  beyond  the  power  of 
most  of  us.  To  such,  or  to  some  of  them, 
Dame  Gertrude's  "  Let  me  either  love  or  not 


Anglo-Catholk  Mystics  269 

live  "  may  bring  a  way  of  escape  :  not  that  it 
is  easy  really  and  sincerely  to  love  ;  a  fact 
which  she  herself  admits  when,  two  pages  later, 
she  exclaims,  "  1  am  not  worthy  to  love." 

In  a  world  where  difficulties  crowd  in  on  us, 
and  vary  according  to  our  several  tempers,  a  few 
may  be  able  to  say  with  S.  Teresa,  Let  me  suffer 
or  die  ;  a  few  more,  perhaps,  with  Dame  Ger- 
trude, Let  me  either  love  or  not  live  ;  while  the 
rest  of  us  who  care  about  holy  things  will 
be  left  wishing  that  we  could  say  either  quite 
without  reservation. 

But  Dame  Gertrude's  striking  characteristic 
is  her  comprehensive  and  very  definite  view 
of  "  duty,"  whether  it  be  suffering  or  loving 
or  anything  else.  No  doubt  if  S.  Teresa  could 
have  read  these  Writings  of  Dame  Gertrude 
she  would  not  find  them  irreconcilable  with 
her  own  views  ;  but  Dame  Gertrude  somehow 
puts  the  case  in  a  fashion  which  the  average 
mortal  can  better  grasp,  her  English  quality 
of  practicalness  helping  her  just  here. 

In  the  eighth  and  ninth  of  her  Confessiones 
Amantis  she  conveys  with  a  simplicity  which 
perhaps  no  other  mystic  has  surpassed  the 
innermost  essence  of  holy  service,  of  perfect, 
absolute  surrender  :  "Thou  wilt  provide 
crosses,  such  and  so  many  as  will  be  sufficient 
to  make  us  become  what  Thou  wouldst  have 
us  to  be  ;  and  in  those  of  Thy  sending,  there 
is    no    danger,    if  we    will    endeavour    to    be 


270  English  Mystics 

faithful  to  Thee,  and  in  them  call  often  upon 
Thee.  But  when  we  unduly  place  such  per- 
fection in  suffering  that  we  think  we  do  nothing 
unless  we  be  suffering,  and  are,  as  it  were, 
loath  to  lose  time  (as  we  imagine)  by  being 
without  occasion  of  suffering,  we  oftentimes 
fail  in  those  very  crosses  which,  in  such  a 
humour,  we  lay  upon  ourselves,  or  thrust  our- 
selves into,  without  Thy  leave,  and  so  disable 
ourselves  from  undergoing  and  suffering 
those  which,  then  or  afterwards,  are  thought 
by  Thee  to  be  fitter  for  us.  .  .  .  If  we  will, 
therefore,  in  all  live  secure,  let  us  desire 
nothing — no,  not  even  to  have  matter  of 
suffering,  save  so  far  as  it  shall  be  His  pleasure. 
For  certainly,  to  suffer  for  Him  is  so  great  an 
honour  that  one  may  justly  esteem  oneself 
unworthy  thereof ;  and  yet  it  is  a  thing  so 
necessary  to  advance  us  in  the  way  of  love  that 
we  need  not  doubt  but  that  God  will  provide 
it  when  He  sees  fit  ;  and  when  He  doth  send 
it,  come  which  way  it  will,  it  will  be  no  impedi- 
ment to  a  faithful  soul.  But  the  only  way 
to  live  secure  in  this,  as  well  as  in  all  other 
things,  is  to  be  as  a  little  child  by  humble 
resignation,  and  let  God  do  with  us  in  all 
what  He  will."  ^ 

In    the   ninth    Confession    she   pursues   this 
subject  :    "  Worthily   may  obedience   be    pre- 

'   Writings  of  Dame  Gertrude  More,  p.  40. 


Anglo-Catholk  Mystics  I'll 

ferred  before  sacrifice,^  for  it  is  that  which 
governeth  Heaven  and  Earth,  and  which  only 
deserveth  reward  in  Thy  sight.  ,  .  .  This 
obedience  to  Thee  maketh  the  Angels  as  well 
content  with  their  degree  of  glory  as  to  be  of 
the  Seraphim  who  are  yet  in  a  far  higher  degree 
of  glory  in  Thy  kingdom.  This  maketh  Thy 
saints  content  with  theirs.  This  maketh  souls 
on  earth  who  aspire  to  Thee  with  all  their 
hearts  to  limit  their  desires  to  Thy  goodwill 
and  pleasure.  .  .  .  This  maketh  them  desire 
neither  disgrace  nor  glory,  neither  pain  nor 
health,  neither  crosses  nor  comforts."  2  Once 
more,  "  never  can  we  prosper  in  a  spiritual  life 
unless  we  hearken  to  Thee,  and  observe  even 
in  the  least  things  what  Thou  wouldest  have  us 
to  do,  and  go  that  way  which  Thou  wouldest 
have  us  in  all  things  whatsoever."  3 

Surely  any  one  who  can  carry  out  these 
precepts,  not  only  when  all  things  are  going 
easily  and  pleasantly,  but  when  pain  and  sorrow 
are  overwhelming  and  there  apparently  opens 
no  way  of  escape,  and  also  when  life  is  exor- 
bitantly drab  and  monotonous,  has  found  the 
one  Way  } 

This  teaching  has,  perhaps,  an  added  weight 
when  we  remember  that  it  comes  to  us  from 

'  I  Sam.  (Vulgate,  I  Kings)  xv.  22  :  Melior  est  en'tm 
obedientia  quam  victimae,  et  auscultare  magls  quam  offerre  adipetn 
arte  turn. 

"  Writings,  TpTp.  42-3.  3  ibid. 


272  English  Mystics 

a  woman  with  mental  gifts  above  the  ordinary, 
from  a  woman  who  loved  all  the  natural  good 
things  of  life,  whose  senses  were  unusually 
keen  and  alert,  whose  attention  "  extroverted," 
turned  outward,  was  always  at  grips  with  her 
"  propensity,"  which  led  inwards,  and  up  to 
God. 

Dame  Gertrude  More  was  no  gentle, 
"  woolly,"  placid,  easily-led  character  ;  she 
was  all  alive  everywhere,  and  always  ;  yet  this 
high,  exacting  doctrine  came  to  be  the  secret 
of  her  life. 

With  a  delightful  image  of  God's  varying 
method  with  different  souls  we  will  leave  her, 
and  the  picturesque,  fragrant  and  devout 
seventeenth  century  :  "  Thou  flyest  up  with 
them,  who  by  an  ardent  love  have  surmounted 
all  created  things,  and  are  firmly  united  to 
Thee  in  spirit.  And  Thou  also  lendest  Thy 
sweet  Hand  to  Thy  little  and  imperfect  ones, 
who  are  of  a  good  will,  to  help  them  out  of 
the  mire  and  dirt  of  passions  and  inordinate 
affections."  ^ 

*  ibid.,  p.  44. 


CHAPTER   VI 
Nature  Mystics 

"  GuTHLAC    WAS    GOOD  ;      IN    HIS    HEART    HE  BORE  A   HEAVENLY 
HOPE    AND    SOUGHT   THE    HEALING    OF    ETERNAL    LIFE."  ' 

THERE  are  writers  who  definitely  rule 
out  the  possibility  of  nature  mysti- 
cism ;  but  the  Catholic  Church  has 
never  formally  done  so.  By  nature  mysticism 
is  not  meant  pantheism  nor  any  approach  to 
it  ;  nor  what  an  American  writer  has  called 
"  cosmic  consciousness."  2  The  phrase  is  used 
in  this  book  for  that  direct  approach  of  the 
human  soul  to  God  which  results  from  the 
conviction  that  the  beauty  of  this  world  is  the 
work  of  God  still,  as  it  was  when  He  beheld 
it  first  and  pronounced  it  "very  good  "  ;  and 
from  the  conviction — this  is  the  justification 
for  calling  it  mysticism — that  that  work  is  for 
ever  a  part  of,  an  emanation  from,  the  Worker. 
It  is  a  true,  genuine  form  of  mysticism,  one 
likely  to  be  found  among  Englishmen  with 
their  indigenous  love  for  nature. 

It  is  surely  an  idle  waste  of  time  to  contend 

'   (juthlac.  Part  A,  ch.  iii,  attributed  to  Cynewulf. 
*  See  above,  p.  251. 

273  T 


274  English  Mystics 

over  the  relative  values  of  a  Rolle's  or  a 
Wordsworth's  intuition  of  the  Divine  Being. 
God,  after  all,  knows  the  nature  and  capacity 
of  these  English  whom  He  made  ;  and  if 
their  particular  genius  sometimes  responds  to 
the  Divine  Worker  more  quickly  by  way  of 
His  work  spread  out  in  all  its  glory  and 
beauty  than  by  way  of  their  own  toil  in  purga- 
tion and  mortification — in  other  words  if  He 
prepares  each  one  for  illumination  and  union 
by  the  way  most  suitable  to  each — why  should 
one  way  be  accepted  as  orthodox  and  the  other 
ruled  out  as  sentimental  emotion  ?  It  is  an 
old  and  very  common  human  temptation  to  be 
wiser  than  God. 

I  have  put  at  the  head  of  this  chapter 
a  quotation  with  its  artless  but  far-reaching 
opening,  "  Guthlac  was  good,"  because  I 
venture  to  think  that  it  may  stand  for  that 
intrinsically  wholesome,  direct,  single-minded 
attitude  which  is  not  only  typical  of  the 
genuine  Englishman,  but  is  explanatory  of 
his  frequent  response  to  nature  as  a  direct 
adumbration  of  the  Real  Presence,  so  barely 
veiled,  so  close  to  the  beating  heart  and  long- 
ing soul  of  the  God-convinced  mortal.  It 
may  be  very  necessary  to  acquaint  one's  self 
with  the  whole  poem  to  which  Guthlac's  name 
serves  as  a  title  before  one  realizes  the  conno- 
tation here  of  that  one  word  "good."  Any 
one  who  will  read  the  poem  must  be  struck  by 


Nature  Mystics  11 S 

his  love  of  nature.  Like  an  earlier  S.  Francis, 
he  found  friends  in  the  creatures,  and  in  the 
natural  forces  of  the  world  :  "  The  tribe  of 
forest  birds  with  their  notes  proclaimed  the 
coming  of  the  holy  man  unto  his  home  again  ; 
oft  he  held  out  food  to  them,  and  they  were 
wont  to  fly  in  hunger  round  about  his  hand, 
in  great  desire  rejoicing  in  his  succour.  .  .  . 
Fair  was  the  pleasant  plain,  and  his  new  dwell- 
ing ;  winsome  the  call  of  birds.  The  earth 
put  forth  her  blossoms,  cuckoos  proclaimed 
the  year.  And  Guthlac,  that  blessed  steadfast 
man,  might  have  joy  of  his  abode  ;  in  God's 
keeping  lay  the  meadow  green."  ^ 

Later,  when  pain  and  disease  seized  him, 
and  death  hovered  near,  he  still  was  the 
consoler  of  man  and  creature  :  "  Ever  they 
found  Guthlac  ready  and  wise  of  thought. 
And  he  abode  steadfast  though  the  throng  of 
fiends  menaced  him  with  pain  of  body.  Whiles 
all  the  kind  of  birds,  oppressed  with  hunger, 
flew  unto  his  hands  where  they  found  sure 
relief,  extolling  him  with  ardent  voices. 
Whiles  human  heralds  came  to  him  in  lowli- 
ness, and  there,  after  their  journey,  found 
help  and  comfort  of  heart  at  the  hand  of  that 
holy  servant  in  that  blissful  plain.  No  one 
there  was  indeed  who  went  away  cast  down  in 
heart,   wretched   or   hopeless.      But    the    holy 

'  The  Poems  of  Qynezvulf]  p.  285.  Translated  by  C.  W, 
Kennedy,  Ph.D.      (Published  by  Routledge.) 


276  English  Mystics 

man  by  his  noble  power  healed  every  mortal, 
every  man  racked  with  pain  or  sick  at  heart. 
He  healed  both  soul  and  body  as  long  as  the 
Warden  of  life,  Eternal  and  Almighty,  would 
grant  him  that  he  might  enjoy  bliss  and  life  in 
the  world."  ^ 

The  secret  of  this  oneness  of  Guthlac  with 
the  whole  creation  —  because  behind  the 
visible  work  he  had  caught  a  vision  of  the 
Divine  Worker — Cynewulf,  if  he  wrote  it,  had 
revealed  at  the  poem's  outset. 

Guthlac,  alone,  surrounded  by  a  host  of 
menacing  enemies,  proclaims  his  secret  :  "  As 
I  stand  here  before  you,  I  am  not  so  devoid 
of  help,  lacking  a  host  of  men  ;  but  for  me 
abideth  and  increaseth  a  greater  portion  in  the 
mystic  secrets  of  the  spirit,  which  doth  uphold 
me  with  its  succour.  For  myself  alone,  full 
easily  shall  I  rear  a  house  and  place  of  refuge  : 
for  me  is  counsel  present  in  the  heavens.  .  .  . 
At  God's  hand  will  I  seek  for  peace,  nor  shall 
my  spirit  suffer  evil  among  you."  2 

The  feature  which  preserves  this  nature 
mysticism  from  drifting  into  mere  pantheism 
is  the  knowledge  that  the  "  universe  of  exis- 
tence," man,  the  creatures,  trees  and  plants, 
sea  and  sky,  everything,  are,  in  their  degree, 
the  work  of  God  ;  and  that  it  is  in  this  great 
fellowship  that  man  comes  to  God. 

'  ibid.,  p.  290.  '  p.  270. 


Nature  Mystics  iq^ 

The  authorship  of  the  poem  has  been  dis- 
puted, but  whether  Cynewulf  wrote  it  or  some 
other,  the  question  is  not  vital  to  this  present 
study.  It  suffices  for  the  propositions  ad- 
vanced here,  that  all  the  poems  should  come 
from  some   Early   English   writer. 

Whoever  wrote  GuthlaCy  The  Christ  is 
generally  admitted  to  be  Cynewulf's  ;  it  is 
one  of  the  four  poems  containing,  by  runes, 
his  signature ;  and  pre-eminently,  I  think 
uniquely,  handled  in  the  marvellous  descrip- 
tion of  Doomsday  at  the  close  of  the  poem,  do 
we  find  this  sense  of  the  oneness  of  creation, 
the  fact  that  man  is  a  part  but  not  the  whole 
of  the  divine  work. 

In  the  course  of  this  picture  of  the  Last 
Day,  a  passage  which  would  delight  the  author 
of  The  Ode  to  the  Setting  Sun,  occurs :  "  Yet 
will  He  sternly  take  recompense  again  for  all, 
when  the  red  cross  shineth  over  all  the  heavens 
in  the  place  of  the  sun."  This  image  draws 
Cynewulf  on  to  a  description  of  the  Cruci- 
fixion ;  and  in  the  course  of  it  some  vivid 
touches  seem  to  add  something  of  startling 
freshness  to  the  story  of  Calvary,  whose 
horror  one  not  seldom  fears  has  been  blunted 
to  some  by  perpetual  repetition.  Cynewulf 
tells  us  that  the  "  hell-destined  men "  who 
had  committed  the  crime  "  saw  the  dumb 
creation,  the  radiant-green  earth  and  upper 
sky,  with  trembling  feel  its  Saviour's  agonies  ; 


278  English  Mystics 

and  though  they  lived  not,  woefully  they 
wailed  when  men  of  evil  seized  upon  their 
Maker  with  evil  hands." 

Then  follows  the  Gospel  statement,  "  The 
sun  was  darkened"  ;  to  which  Cynewulf  adds 
the  tinge  of  personality,  "veiled  in  sorrow"  ; 
and  he  continues,  still  blending  the  familiar 
sacred  story  with  poetic  imagery,  "  Many  walls 
and  rocks  throughout  the  world  were  burst 
asunder  ;  also  the  earth,  shaken  with  terror, 
trembled  in  tumult.  The  broad  sea  made 
known  the  strength  of  its  might,  and  from 
its  bonds  in  wrath  broke  forth  into  the  lap 
of  earth  ;  and  from  their  shining  stations 
the  stars  forsook  their  splendour  sweet.  In 
that  same  hour,  heaven  clearly  knew  Who 
decked  it  brightly  with  its  starry  gems.  .  .  . 
And  many  a  tree,  no  little  number,  revealed 
Who  shaped  them  with  their  blossoms,  when 
mighty  God  mounted  on  one  of  them,  whereon 
He  knew  affliction  for  the  need  of  human 
kind,  a  baleful  death  to  succour  men.  Then 
many  a  tree  wept  bloody  tears  under  its  bark, 
ruddy,  abundant  tears  :  the  sap  was  turned  to 
blood."  I 

A  similar  picture  of  creation  suffering  with 
our  Lord  is  to  be  found  in  the  Dream  of  the 
Rood  :  "  Darkness  had  compassed  about  with 
clouds    the  body    of  the    wielding  God,  that 

'   ibid.,  pp.  I  87  et  seq. 


Nature  Mystics  279 

lustrous  radiance.  Wan  under  heaven  shadows 
went  forth.  And  all  creation  wept,  wailing  the 
slaughter  of  its  King.  Christ  was  on  the 
cross." 

That  Cynewulf  was  fully  conscious  of  his 
point  of  view,  that  it  was  quite  deliberate  and 
intentional,  however  unusual,  is  proved  by  the 
next  sentence,  which  sums  it  all  up  in  a  few 
words  :  "  Nor  may  the  dwellers  of  the  world 
unriddle  that,  by  craft  of  wisdom,  how  many 
lifeless  things  that  might  not  feel  still  knew 
the  Passion  of  our  Lord."  ^ 

Cynewulf  must  have  attributed  a  very  limited 
inanimacy,  non-sentience,  to  what,  in  deference 
to  ordinary  opinion,  he  gives  the  accepted 
name — "  lifeless  things." 

It  is  quite  true,  as  Professor  Cook  in  his 
book  The  Christ  of  Cynewulf  says,  that  the 
idea  of  the  inanimate  creation  being  aware 
of  Christ's  Passion  may  be  found  in  S.  Leo 
the  Great's  Sermon  on  the  Passion,  and  that 
it  occurs  again  in  a  homily  of  S.  Gregory 
the  Great.  But  it  is  not  a  common  thought 
in  English  literature.  Moreover,  in  all  Cyne- 
wulf's  references  to  nature  there  is  a  peculiar 
tenderness,  a  something  individual  which  is 
absent  from  these  discourses  ;  and  the  asser- 
tion that  human  beings  cannot  discern  how 
lifeless    things    knew    of  the   Passion    appears 

»  ibid.,  p.  188. 


28o  English  Mystics 

to    be    his    own  ;    it    does    not,   at    any    rate, 
occur  in  S.  Leo  or  S.  Gregory. 

To  Cynewulf,  as  to  the  Hebrew  Psalmist, 
*'  In  His  temple  everything  saith  Glory  !  " 
Everything  :  there  is  shewn  the  mystical  sense 
which  penetrates  the  veil  and  apprehends 
reality. 

Of  all  our  Early  English  poets,  he,  if 
the  writings  attributed  to  him  be  really  his, 
is  nearest  to  that  poetry  of  natural  beauty, 
which  never  dies  out  in  our  literature  as  the 
generations  pass  away.  There  is,  I  think,  only 
one  possible  exception — the  author  of  The 
Phoenix^  if  Cynewulf  did  not  write  it.  Not 
Traherne  himself  has  drawn  a  more  gladsome, 
blessed  picture  of  natural  beauty  and  peace  and 
joy  than  the  description  of  the  land  in  general, 
and  of  the  wood  in  particular,  where  the  im- 
mortal Phoenix  dwelt.  The  passage  is  known 
to  every  English  scholar  ;  but  it  will  bear 
quotation  again  :  "  That  is  a  winsome  plain, 
the  woods  are  green,  far-stretching  'neath  the 
sky.  Nor  there  may  any  rain  or  snow,  nor 
breath  of  frost  nor  blast  of  fire,  nor  storm  of 
hail  nor  fall  of  rime,  nor  heat  of  sun,  nor  ever- 
lasting cold,  nor  warm  weather,  nor  winter 
shower  work  harm  a  whit,  but  the  plain 
endureth  blessed  and  wholesome.  .  .  .  There 
stand  no  hills,  nor  mountains  steep,  nor  strong 
cliffs  rise  high  as  here  with  us,  nor  dales,  nor 
glens,  nor  mountain  gorges,  caves  nor  crags. 


Nature  Mystics  281 

No  whit  of  roughness  bideth  there,  but  the 
pleasant  field,  blossoming  with  delights,  bring- 
eth  forth  beneath  the  clouds.  .  .  . 

"  Serene  is  that  pleasant  plain  ;  its  sunny 
grove  gleameth,  winsome  its  woodland  glades. 
Its  increase  faileth  not,  its  pleasant  fruit  ;  but 
ever  the  trees  stand  green  as  God  gave  bidding. 
In  winter  and  in  summer  are  the  groves  like- 
wise hung  with  fruit ;  never  a  leaf  fadeth  in  the 
air.  ...  In  that  land,  there  is  no  hated  foe, 
neither  weeping  nor  vengeance,  nor  any  sign 
of  sorrow,  nor  age  nor  misery,  nor  narrow 
death,  failing  of  life  nor  coming  of  the  foe, 
nor  sin  nor  strife,  nor  tribulation,  paupers' 
toil  nor  want  of  wealth,  sorrow  nor  sleep  nor 
bed  of  pain,  nor  wintry  gusts,  nor  tossing 
tempests  raging  beneath  the  sky,  neither  the 
hard  frost  with  chill  icicles  troubleth  any. 
There  no  hail  nor  rime  fall  upon  the  earth, 
nor  windy  cloud  ;  there  water  faileth  not, 
stirred  in  air.  But  flowing  streams,  wondrous, 
curious  wells  flow  forth,  watering  the  earth 
with  pleasant  streams.  From  the  wood's 
middle,  from  the  turf  of  earth,  each  month 
a  winsome  water  breaketh,  cold  as  the  sea, 
faring  abundantly  through  all  the  grove.  It  is 
the  bidding  of  the  Lord  that  twelve  times  the 
joy  of  water  floods  shall  overflow  the  glorious 
land.  The  groves  are  hung  with  bloom  and 
beauteous  increase  ;  the  holy  treasures  of  the 
wood    wane    not    beneath    the   heaven.      The 


2  82  English  Mystics 

fallow  blossoms,  the  beauty  of  the  forest  trees 
fall  not  upon  the  ground  ;  but  on  the  trees 
the  boughs  are  ever  wondrous  laden,  the  fruit 
new  in  every  season.  In  the  grassy  plain,  the 
forests  fair  stand  green,  joyously  garnished  by 
the  might  of  Holy  God.  Nor  is  the  wood 
broken  in  aspect,  but  there  a  holy  perfume 
dwelleth  in  that  winsome  land.  Never  shall 
that  know  change  for  ever,  until  He  Who 
shaped  it  in  the  beginning  shall  bring  His 
ancient  work  of  wisdom  unto  its  end."  ^ 

Perhaps  it  is  unnecessary  to  say — since  no 
language  or  dialect  can  really  be  translated  into 
another — that  much  of  the  charm  and  beauty 
of  the  original  has  unavoidably  evaporated 
during  the  passage  into  modern  English. 

Nature,  though  it  is  a  term  often  used 
ambiguously,  and  sometimes  narrowly,  must 
of  course  include  humanity  as  part  of  the 
created  universe.  Therefore  nature  mystics 
find  God  not  only  in  the  physical,  material 
universe,  but  in  human  beings.  It  is  not 
giving  him  more  than  his  due,  I  think,  to 
take  William  Law  as  a  signal  example  of 
a  mystic  who  worked  his  way  to  God  through 
human  nature.  After  all,  that  was  the  like- 
liest path  for  a  man  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
so  absorbed  in  the  study  of  man  and  his 
attributes  and  powers. 

'  The  Poems  of  Cyne'^ulf,  pp.  312  et  seq.  Translated  by 
C.  W.  Kennedy. 


Nature  Mystics  283 

It  may  perhaps  be  well  to  forestall  a  criticism 
that  he  cannot  be  regarded  as  a  typically  English 
mystic,  since  his  loan  from  Jacob  Boehme  is 
both  extensive  and  obvious.  There  is  a  shred 
of  truth  in  the  objection  ;  but  on  that  line  of 
thought  we  might  rule  out  Vaughan  on  account 
of  his  Welsh  descent,  and  perhaps  find  some- 
thing disqualifying  in  every  one  mentioned  in 
this  book,  since,  whatever  the  English  race 
may  or  may  not  be,  it  is  mixed. 

Though  probably  every  one  thinks  he 
understands  the  meaning  of  coming  to  God 
through  Nature,  it  may  be  desirable,  before 
dealing  with  Law,  to  indicate  some  of  the 
difficulties  of  the  Way,  when  it  lies  among 
problems  and  phenomena  of  human  nature. 

Cardinal  Newman,  in  a  letter  to  Dr.  Mey- 
nell.  Professor  of  Philosophy  at  Oscott,  written 
in  January,  i860,  said  that  if  he  wrote  a  new 
book,  "its  object  would  be  to  show  that  a  given 
individual,  high  or  low,  has  as  much  right  (has 
as  real  rational  grounds)  to  be  certain,  as  a 
learned  theologian  who  knows  the  scientific 
evidence." 

This  is  not  just  tantamount  to  saying,  what 
most  of  us  must  have  observed,  that  as  a  matter 
of  fact  the  "  simply  good  "  have,  apart  from 
theological  training  and  special  natural  ability, 
that  conviction,  that  kind  of  sure  knowledge, 
which  is  sometimes  called  foi  du  charhonnier. 
Newman's  statement  is    more    important    and 


284  English  Mystics 

far-reaching  :  his  phrase  is  that  such  a  one 
"has  as  real  rational  grounds"  as  another 
knowing  the  evidence. 

It  is  difficult,  in  the  light  of  his  Grammar  oj 
Assent  and  the  University  Sermons,  not  to  wonder 
if  he  would  not  have  expressed  his  precise 
meaning  better  if  he  had  said  that  such  a  per- 
son's certainty  is  as  really  justifiable  as  the 
scientific  person's,  which  is  based  on  evidence. 
Though  it  is  temerarious  in  the  extreme  to 
challenge  the  choice  of  words  of  such  a  master 
of  style,  the  introduction  of  the  word  rational 
seems  to  confuse  the  problem  in  its  very 
centre. 

Mr.  Wilfrid  Ward,  commenting  on  this 
letter,  says  :  "  Let  it  be  remembered  that  the 
ordinary  reply  in  the  current  school  treatises 
to  the  question,  *  How  can  the  uneducated 
man  have  sufficient  reason  for  belief  in  Chris- 
tianity.''' was  that  such  a  one  has  reasons 
sufficient  to  satisfy  his  own  limited  intellect. 
This  clearly  left  a  difficulty  unsolved.  For 
a  fallacious  argument  might  satisfy  an  uncritical 
and  uneducated  mind.  In  the  University  Ser- 
mon on  "Wisdom  as  contrasted  with  Faith  and 
Bigotry,"  Newman  had  met  the  difficulty  by 
the  suggestion  that  the  faith  of  the  simple 
involved  a  semi-conscious  share  in  the  wisdom 
of  the  Church  as  a  whole."  ' 

^  Wilfrid  Ward,  Life  of  John  Henry,  Cardinal  O^efxtnan, 
vol.  ii,  p.  244. 


Nature  Mystics  285 

In  the  Qrammar  of  Assent  Newman  went  a 
step  further  and  spoke  of  those  who  have 
"  a  heart  and  eye  for  truth  "  ;  and  in  that  great, 
and  greatly  neglected,  book  he  developed  his 
theory  of  the  "  illative  sense,"  of  which  more 
must  be  said  in  the  last  chapter  of  this  book. 

The  question  which  underlay  his  desire  to 
write  that  particular  book  is  really  this:  Can 
any  person  know  the  truths  of  religion  without 
possessing  considerable  ability,  and  without 
having  that  ability  trained,  and  finally,  with- 
out having  used  such  trained  ability,  to  carry 
out  an  exhaustive  inquiry  into  fundamental 
religious  questions  r  If  the  answer  is  to  be 
a  negative,  the  question  must  arise.  Who,  then, 
can  be  saved  ?  As  a  matter  of  fact,  both 
common  sense  and  experience  show  that  the 
answer  must  be  Yes.  But  when  the  next 
question,  //ow  can  he  have  this  knowledge  } 
is  put,  neither  the  answer  which  Mr.  Ward 
quotes  from  current  school  treatises,  nor  New- 
man's suggestion  about  "a  semi-conscious  share 
in  the  wisdom  of  the  Church  as  a  whole," 
seems  to  cover  the  ground. 

Can  any  suggestion  cover  it,  save  one  which 
allows  for  the  possibilities  of  mysticism  .'' 

In  his  Mystical  Element  of  Religion  Baron  von 
HUgel  made  a  statement  which  has  often  been 
quoted  in  theological  articles  about  the  three 
elements  in  religion.  He  writes  :  "  Even  the 
most  elementary   acquisition,  indeed  the  very 


286  English  Mystics 

possibility  of  any  and  all  certitude  of  know- 
ledge, is  dependent  for  us  upon  the  due 
collaboration  of  the  three  elements  or  forces 
of  our  nature,  the  sensational,  the  rational,  the 
ethico-mystical."  ^ 

These  three  result  outwardly  in  three  several 
aspects  of  religion  ;  first,  the  "  External, 
Authoritative,  Traditional,  Institutional  side  "  ;  ^ 
second,  the  state  when  "  Religion  becomes 
Thought,  System  or  Philosophy  "  ;  3  and  thirdly, 
"the  Experimental  and  Mystical." 4 

Baron  von  Hagel  argues  that,  in  greater  or 
less  degree,  these  three  religious  conditions, 
corresponding  to  three  "natural"  fundamental 
human  states,  are  essential  and  complementary  : 
"  Now  these  three  sides  of  the  human  character 
and  corresponding  three  elements  of  Religion 
are  never  any  one  of  them  without  a  trace  or 
rudiment  of  the  other  two  ;  and  this  joint 
presence  of  three  such  disparate  elements  ever 
involves  tension,  of  a  fruitful  or  dangerous 
kind."  5  If  he  be  right  in  this  analysis,  is  it 
not  the  fact  that  the  mystical  element  can  and 
probably  does  account  for  the  unshakable 
convictions  of  the  unlearned  .''  Baron  von 
Hilgel  speaks  of  an  element  of  mysticism,  and 
expects  it  to  be  capable  of  detection  in  us  all. 
It  may  vary  infinitely  in  different  individuals, 

'  Friedrich  von  HUgel,  The  Mystical  Element  of'R^eligion, 
vol.  i,  pp.  5  5-6. 

^  ibid.,  vol.  i,  p.  53.        ^  ibid.         ''  P-  55-         ^  P-  53- 


Nature  Mystics  287 

from  that  great  degree  which  makes  it  the 
dominant  factor  in  a  RoUe  or  a  Ruysbroeck 
or  a  S.  Teresa,  to  that  touch  of  it  which 
enables  the  illiterate  to  be  "  sure "  of  that 
which  they  could  not  know  were  they  obliged 
to  find  and  sift  the  evidence  ? 

At  the  same  time  his  warning  about  the 
danger  of  these  coincident  but  disparate  ele- 
ments should  not  be  forgotten.  As  heresies 
and  schisms  arise  from  exaggeration  of  a  single 
truth,  so  that  temper  of  exaggeration  may 
spring  from  too  great  and  exclusive  reliance 
on  one  of  these  three  elements,  an  exaggerated 
rationalism  an  over-stiff  traditionalism  or  a 
swollen  and  misused  mysticism. 

These  suggestions  of  Newman  and  Baron 
von  Hiigel  may  be  useful  in  throwing  some 
light  on  Law,  for  he  is,  par  excellence^  the 
English  mystic  who  dwells  on  that  approach 
to  God  which  is  possible,  not  through  the 
material  universe,  but  by  reason  of  man's 
constitution,  of  the  infrangible  link  divinely 
forged  which  holds  him  to  God.  Law's 
works,  apart  from  the  Serious  Call^  which  is 
far  more  occupied  with  daily  conduct  than 
with  mysticism,  are  not  easy  to  obtain.  But 
a  very  useful  volume  of  extracts  from  his 
writings,  specially  his  mystical  writings,  was 
published  in   1908.^ 

'  Liberal  and  Mystical  Writings  of  William  LaTf,  edited  by- 
William  Scott  Palmer.      (Published  by  Longmans  &  Co.) 


288  English  Mystics 

A  few  passages  from  the  first  essay  in  this 
book,  The  Spirit  of  Prayer^  will  show  the  core 
and  essence  of  Law's  mysticism. 

"  God,  the  only  good  of  all  intelligent 
natures,  is  not  an  absent  or  distant  God,  but 
is  more  present  in  us  and  to  our  souls  than 
our  own  bodies  ;  and  we  are  strangers  to 
Heaven,  and  without  God  in  the  world,  for 
this  only  reason — because  we  are  void  of  the 
Spirit  of  Prayer,  which  alone  can  and  never 
fails  to  unite  us  with  the  one  only  good,  and 
to  open  Heaven  and  the  Kingdom  of  God 
within  us."  ' 

That  is  Law's  plea,  that  the  kingdom  of 
God  is  within  us.  Not  for  him  is  the  veil  of 
nature's  beauty,  which  so  barely,  so  trans- 
parently to  the  illumined,  covers  the  Divinity 
within,  "  Surely  the  Lord  is  in  this  place,  and 
I  knew  it  not "  ;  he,  so  he  urges  again  and 
again,  need  not  go  out  of  himself  at  the  start. 
With  him  the  Divine  is  immanent,  not  in  the 
world  of  nature  but  in  the  heart  of  man  : 
"  For  the  sun  meets  not  the  springing  bud  that 
stretches  towards  him  with  half  that  certainty 
as  God,  the  Source  of  all  good,  communicates 
Himself  to  the  soul  that  longs  to  partake  ot 
Him."2 

What,  then,  is  required  of  man  }  Law's 
answer  is  short  and  clear  :  "  Awake  then  thou 

^  ibid.,  p.  II.  ^   ibid. 


Nature  Mystics  289 

that  sleepest,  and  Christ,  Who  from  all  Eternity- 
hath  been  espoused  to  thy  soul,  shall  give  thee 
Light.  Begin  to  search  and  dig  in  thine  own 
field  for  this  Pearl  of  Eternity,  that  lieth 
hidden  in  it  ;  it  cannot  cost  thee  too  much, 
nor  canst  thou  buy  it  too  dear,  for  it  is  all."  ^ 

He  answers  the  question  put  by  Newman 
as  appositely  as  if  the  two  men  had  actually 
met  and  discussed  it  :  "The  Word,  which  is 
the  Wisdom  of  God,  is  in  thy  heart.  ...  It 
is  there  as  a  speaking  Word  of  God  in  thy 
soul  ;  and  as  soon  as  thou  art  ready  to  hear, 
this  eternal,  speaking  Word  will  speak  Wisdom 
and  Love.  .  .  .  Hence  also  it  is  that  in  the 
Christian  Church  there  have  been  in  all  ages 
the  most  illiterate,  both  men  and  women,  who 
have  attained  to  a  deep  understanding  of  the 
wisdom  and  love  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus. 
And  what  wonder  }  Sure  it  is  not  art  or 
science,  or  skill  in  grammar  or  logic,  but  the 
opening  of  the  divine  Life  in  the  soul,  that 
can  give  true  understanding  of  the  things  of 
God."  2 

It  must  be  obvious  that  so  great  a  gift  as 
this,  and  one  so  intimately  individual  and  / 
universal  too,  since  Law  claims  that  it  is 
given  to  every  man,  must  have  its  constant 
and  tremendous  danger.  History  contains 
plenty  of  instances  of  the  vagaries  to  which 

'  p.  14.  =  p.  17. 


290  English  Mystics 

the  exaggerated  claim  to  individual  "light" 
may  bring  a  person.  For  that  reason  Baron 
von  HUgel  insists  on  the  other  two  elements 
in  religion.  The  Church,  with  its  authoritative 
tradition,  and  the  Reason  of  man  are  as  truly 
among  God's  gifts  to  him  as  the  Inner  Light 
can  be. 

Though  it  is  the  essence  of  Law's  doctrine 
that  the  treasure  is  hidden  within  man,  yet 
no  one  need  imagine  that  there  is  nothing 
more  to  be  done  ;  Law  insists  that  a  half- 
hearted search  will  never  avail  :  "  Thy  reason 
and  senses,  thy  heart  and  passions  have  turned 
all  their  attention  to  the  poor  concerns  of  this 
life,  and  therefore  thou  art  a  stranger  to  this 
principle  of  Heaven,  this  riches  of  Eternity 
within  thee.  For  as  God  is  not,  cannot  be, 
truly  found  by  any  worshipper  but  those  who 
worship  Him  in  spirit  and  in  truth,  so  this 
Light  and  Spirit,  though  always  within  us,  is 
not,  cannot  be,  found,  felt,  or  enjoyed  but  by 
those  whose  whole  Spirit  is  turned  to  it."  ^ 

Further  on  he  tells  us  "the  first  Seed  of  life, 
which  is  sown  into  the  soul  as  the  gift  or  grace 
of  God  to  fallen  man,  is  itself  the  Light  and 
Spirit  of  God";2  and  he  claims  that  it  is 
"common  to  all  men." 

^  It  would  seem  that  to  Law  God  can  be 
discerned  in  the  heart  of  man,  as  to  Words- 

'  ibid.,   p.  14.  2  p   ij_ 


Nature  Mystics  291 

worth  or  Keble  He  is  found  in  the  heart  of 
the  physical  world.  In  this  sense  then,  man 
being  of  course  part  of  "  nature,"  Law  is, 
properly  speaking,  a  nature  mystic.  Yet  a 
difference  divides  him  and  Wordsworth.  In 
Wordsworth  the  whole,  body  and  soul, 
material  and  immaterial,  stands  over  against 
the  physical  world  ;  in  Law's  case,  the  man 
is,  as  it  were,  split  in  two,  and  as  he  looks 
at  himself  he  finds  God  there.  Law's  doctrine 
becomes  explicable  and  comprehensible,  be- 
cause, like  all  the  mystics,  he  realizes  "the 
spark  at  the  apex  of  man's  soul  "  ;  he  expresses 
himself  just  so:  "He  has  a  spark  of  the 
Light  and  Spirit  of  God,  as  a  supernatural 
gift  of  God  given  unto  the  birth  of  his  soul, 
to  bring  forth  by  degrees  a  new  birth  of  that 
life  which  was  lost  in  Paradise.  This  holy 
spark  of  the  divine  nature  within  him  has 
a  natural,  strong,  and  almost  infinite  tendency, 
a  reaching  after  that  eternal  Light  and  Spirit 
of  God  from  whence  it  came  forth.  It  came 
forth  from  God,  it  came  out  of  God,  it  par- 
taketh  of  the  Divine  nature,  and  therefore  it 
is  always  in  a  state  of  tendency  and  return  to 
God."  There  is  his  belief  in  the  immanence  of 
God  in  man.  But  he  is  no  pantheist,  he  knows 
well  the  transcendence  of  God  :  "On  the  other 
hand,  the  Deity,  as  considered  in  itself  and 
without  the  soul  of  man,  has  an  infinite, 
unchangeable    tendency    of    love    and    desire 


292  English  Mystics 

towards  the  soul  of  man,  to  unite  and  com- 
municate its  own  riches  and  glories  to  it."  ^ 

It  is  true  that  in  one  passage  he  speaks  as 
if  this  light,  while  a  God-sent  gift,  is  not  in 
itself  actually  divine  ;  but  here,  tempted 
probably  by  the  snares  lurking  in  all  illustra- 
tions, he  allowed  himself  to  stray  aside  from 
his  settled  belief :  "  When,  therefore,  the 
first  spark  of  a  desire  after  God  arises  in  thy 
soul,  cherish  it  with  all  thy  care  ;  give  all  thy 
heart  unto  it  ;  it  is  nothing  less  than  a  touch  of 
the  divine  loadstone  that  is  to  draw  thee  out 
of  the  vanity  of  time  unto  the  riches  of  eternity. 
Get  up  therefore  and  follow  it  as  gladly  as  the 
Wise  Men  of  the  East  followed  the  Star  from 
heaven  that  appeared  unto  them.  It  will  do 
for  thee  as  the  Star  did  for  them  ;  it  will  lead 
,  !  thee  to  the  birth  of  Jesus,  not  in  a  stable  at 
y  Bethlehem  in  Judaea,  but  to  the  birth  of  Jesus 
in  the  centre  of  thine  own  fallen  soul."  2 

He  ends  this  treatise  on  The  Spirit  of  Vrayer 
with  a  brief  exposition  of  the  mystic's  progress, 
which  accords  precisely  with  all  genuine  mystical 
teaching.  He  assumes  that  a  man  has  come  to 
a  sense  of  his  own  utter  unworthiness,  of  his 
own  personal  decline  from  the  best  which  was 
in  him,  from  all  that  he  might  have  made  of 
that  best  ;  and  then  lucidly,  convincingly,  and 
so  briefly  he  traces  the   Mystical  Way  :  "  The 

'  ibid.,  p.  16.  '  p.  16. 


Nature  Mystics  293 

painful  sense  and  feeling  of  what  you  are, 
kindled  into  a  working  state  of  sensibility 
by  the  Light  of  God  within  you,  is  the  Fire 
and  Light  from  whence  your  Spirit  of  Prayer 
proceeds.  In  its  first  kindling  nothing  is  found 
or  felt  but  pain,  wrath,  and  darkness,  as  it  is 
to  be  seen  in  the  first  kindling  of  every  heat  or 
fire.  And  therefore  its  first  prayer  is  nothing 
else  but  a  sense  of  penitence,  self-condemnation, 
confession,  and  humility.  This  prayer  of 
humility  is  met  by  the  Divine  Love,  the 
mercifulness  of  God  embraces  it,  and  then 
its  prayer  is  changed  into  hymns  and  songs 
and  thanksgivings.  When  this  state  of  fervour 
has  done  its  work,  has  melted  away  all  earthly 
passions  and  affections,  and  left  no  inclination 
in  the  soul  but  to  delight  in  God  alone,  then 
its  prayer  changes  again.  It  has  now  come  so 
near  to  God,  has  found  such  an  union  with 
Him,  that  it  does  not  so  much  pray  as  live  in 
God.  Its  prayer  is  not  any  particular  action, 
is  not  the  work  of  any  particular  faculty,  not 
confined  to  times  or  word  or  place,  but  is  the 
work  of  its  whole  being,  which  continually 
stands  in  fullness  of  faith,  in  purity  of  love, 
in  absolute  resignation,  to  do  and  be  what  and 
how  its  beloved  pleases.  This  is  the  last  state 
of  the  Spirit  of  Prayer,  and  is  its  highest  union 
with  God  in  this  life."  ^ 

*  p.  21. 


2  94  English  Mystics 

Nothing  separates  the  spirit  and  teaching  of 
this  passage  from  the  mysticism  of  Rolle  or 
Hilton  ;  Law  doubtless  owes  a  great  debt  to 
Boehme,  but  not  here  ;  the  lines  are  instinct 
with  the  restrained  rapture  which  is  so  charac- 
teristic of  the  great  English  Mystics.  These 
extracts  could  easily  be  added  to  from  his 
other  writings  ;  but  they  contain  his  whole 
doctrine,  and  so  suffice. 

Dr.  Bigg  in  his  Introduction  to  an  edi'iion 
of  Law's  Serious  Call  declared  :  "  There  was 
not  a  grain  of  poetry  in  Law's  composition," 
a  statement  which  seems  to  be  traversed  by 
passages  in  his  mystical  writings.  Out  of 
the  unemotional,  critical,  unenthusiastic,  chill 
eighteenth  century  come  from  Law's  pen 
pages  of  sin-struck  sorrow,  of  illumined 
insight,  of  ardent  conviction  and  mystical 
rapture  which  might  sometimes  well  have 
been  the  work  of  the  English  fourteenth 
century. 

Traherne,  as  a  nature  mystic,  stands  some- 
where between  Law  and  Wordsworth.  It  was 
through  nature,  and  that,  so  he  himself  tells 
us,  from  his  earliest  childhood's  days  that  he 
came  to  "practise  the  Presence  of  God,"  as 
Brother  Lawrence  taught  men  to  phrase  it. 
But  the  beauty  of  nature  and  the  existence 
of  God  were,  for  him,  inextricably  mixed. 
The  following  passage  may  be  familiar  to 
a  few  ;  it   shows  clearly  the   close    inter-con- 


ISature  Mystics  295 

nection  in  his  mind  between  nature  and  God. 
Since  Mr.  Dobell  published  the  Centuries  of 
Meditation  it  has  been  quoted  occasionally, 
and  if  taken  alone  might  mislead.  Read 
in  its  proper  context,  it  leaves  untouched 
Traherne's  often  reiterated  conviction  that  in 
his  progress  in  the  spiritual  life  the  physical 
world  took  precedence,  and  that  he  passed 
through  nature  to  God,  not  in  any  pantheistic 
fashion,  because  always  the  Immanent  led 
him  to  the  Transcendent.  The  Qenturies  give 
a  reader  the  impression  that,  child  and  man 
alike,  he  was  directly  taught  by  God,  Who,  so 
far  as  this  mortal  was  concerned,  brought  him 
through  the  created  thing,  as  if  the  world  were 
the  outward  form  and  God  the  inner  reality  ; 
the  material  being  once  more  sacramentally 
the  vehicle  of  the  spiritual,  the  world  having 
been  made  for  man,  and  not  because  God 
needed  it  : — 

And   what   than    this  can  be  more  plain  and  clear  ? 
What  truth  than  this  more  evident  appear  ? 

The  Godhead  cannot  prize 

The  sun   at  all,  nor  yet   the  skies, 

Or  air,  or  earth,   or   trees,  or   seas, 

Or  stars  unless  the  soul  of  man  they  please. 

He   neither  sees  with  human  eyes, 

Nor  needs  Himself  seas,  skies. 

Or  earth,  or  anything  :  He  draws 

No  breath,  nor  eats  or  drinks  by   Nature's  laws.' 

'    The  Poetical  Works  of  Thomas  Traherne,  p.  85. 


296  English  Mystics 

The  passage  is  as  follows  :  "  Once  1  re- 
member (I  think  I  was  about  four  years  old) 
when  I  thus  reasoned  with  myself,  sitting  in 
a  little  obscure  room  in  my  father's  poor 
house  ;  *  If  there  be  a  God,  certainly  He  must 
be  infinite  in  Goodness '  ;  and  that  I  was 
prompted  to  by  a  real  whispering  instinct  of 
Nature.  And  if  He  be  infinite  in  Good- 
ness, and  a  perfect  Being  in  Wisdom  and 
Love,  certainly  He  must  do  most  glorious 
things,  and  give  us  infinite  riches,  how  comes 
it  to  pass  therefore  that  I  am  so  poor  ?  I 
thought  I  could  not  believe  Him  a  God  to 
me,  unless  all  His  power  were  employed  to 
glorify  me.  I  knew  not  then  my  Soul  or 
Body  ;  nor  did  I  think  of  the  Heavens  and  the 
Earth,  the  rivers  and  the  stars,  the  sun  or  the 
seas  ;  all  those  were  lost  and  absent  from  me. 
But  when  I  found  them  made  out  of  nothing 
for  me,  then  I  had  a  God  indeed,  whom 
I  could  rejoice  in."  ' 

As  we  watch  Traherne  in  large  measure, 
and  Wordsworth  in  a  still  greater  degree, 
passing  from  the  "  phenomenal "  beauty  of 
nature  to  find  the  **  God  Who  hideth  Him- 
self," it  may  not  be  irrelevant  to  recall  part  of 
that  passage  from  Plato  where  Diotima,  "  the 
stranger  woman,"  is  discoursing  to  Socrates 
about  love  :  "The  true  order  of  going  or  being 

'  Centuries  of  Meditation,  iii.  16. 


Nature  Mystics  297 

led  by  another  to  the  things  of  love  is  to  use 
the  beauties  of  earth  as  steps  along  which  he 
mounts  upwards,  for  the  sake  of  that  other 
beauty,  going  from  one  to  two,  and  from  two 
to  all  fair  forms,  and  from  fair  forms  to  fair 
practices,  and  from  fair  practices  to  fair 
notions,  until  from  fair  notions  he  arrives 
at  the  notion  of  absolute  beauty,  and  at  last 
knows  what  the  essence  of  beauty  is."  ^ 

In  one  short  sentence  Maximus  Tyrius 
(the  second  century  Platonist)  sums  up 
this  progress  :  "  The  beauty  of  the  flower 
awakens  in  the  intelligence  the  thought  of 
God."  2 

Some  sections  at  the  beginning  of  his  second 
"Century"  plainly  state  that  Traherne  really 
perceived  the  "  natural"  world  first  ;  not  God, 
nor  man,  nor  spirit,  but  the  physical  creation  : 
"  The  Services  which  the  world  doth  you  are 
transcended  to  all  imagination.  Did  it  only 
sustain  your  body  and  preserve  your  life,  and 
comfort  your  senses,  you  were  bound  to  value 
it  as  much  as  those  services  were  worth  ;  but 
it  discovers  the  being  of  God  unto  you,  it 
opens  His  nature  and  shows  you  His  Wisdom, 
Goodness,  and  Power,  it  magnifies  His  Love 
unto  you,  it  serves  Angels  and  men  for 
you,   it  entertains   you  with  many  lovely  and 

'  Symposium,  §211. 

^  Quoted  by  Dr.  C.  Bigg  in  The  Church's  Task  under  the 
Roman  Empire,  p.  79. 


298  English  Mystics 

glorious  objects,  it  feeds  you  with  joys, 
and  becomes  a  theme  that  furnishes  you 
with  perpetual  praises  and  thanksgivings,  it 
inflameth  you  with  the  love  of  God,  and  is 
the  link  of  your  union  and  communion  with 
Him.  .  .  . 

"  Remember  always,  how  great  soever  the 
world  is,  it  is  the  beginning  of  Gifts,  the  first 
thing  which  God  bestows  to  every  infant,  by 
the  very  right  of  his  nativity." 

That  Traherne  means  the  natural  '^orld  as  it 
comes  from  the  hands  of  God  is  perfectly 
obvious  from  his  account  of  his  subsequent 
loss  of  this  primal  treasure  :  "  The  first  Light 
which  shined  in  my  Infancy  in  its  primitive 
and  innocent  clarity  was  totally  eclipsed  ;  inso- 
much that  I  was  fain  to  learn  it  all  again.  If 
you  ask  me  how  it  was  eclipsed  }  Truly  by 
the  customs  and  manners  of  men,  which  like 
contrary  winds  blew  it  out  ;  by  an  innumer- 
able company  of  other  objects,  rude,  vulgar, 
and  worthless  things,  that  like  so  many  loads 
of  earth  and  dung  did  overwhelm  and  bury  it ; 
by  the  impetuous  torrent  of  wrong  desires  in 
all  others  whom  I  saw  or  knew  that  carried  me 
away  and  alienated  me  from  it  ;  by  a  whole 
sea  of  other  matters  and  concernments  that 
covered  and  drowned  it  ;  finally  by  the  evil 
influence  of  a  bad  education  that  did  not  foster 
and  cherish  it.  All  men's  thoughts  and  words 
were  about  other  matters.      They  all    prized 


Nature  Mystics  299 

new  things  which  I  did  not  dream  of."^  And 
again  :  "So  I  began  among  my  fellows  to 
prize  a  drum,  a  fine  coat,  a  penny,  a  gilded 
book,  etc.,  who  never  before  dreamed  of  any 
such  wealth.  Goodly  objects  to  drown  all  the 
knowledge  of  Heaven  and  Earth  !  As  for  the 
Heavens  and  the  Sun  and  Stars  they  dis- 
appeared and  were  no  more  unto  me  than 
the  bare  walls.  So  that  the  strange  riches  of 
man's  invention  quite  overcame  the  riches  of 
Nature,  being  learned  more  laboriously  and  in 
the  second  place."  2 

From  the  dawn  of  this  country's  life 
Englishmen  have  loved  nature  ;  among  them 
it  would  be  hard  to  find  one  who  surpassed 
Traherne.  He  goes  on  to  describe  his  state 
of  misery  when  he  was  deprived  of  his  true 
wealth,  and  how  it  was  when  he  was  in  this 
condition  that  he  experienced  the  discontent 
at  his  poverty,  which  he  expressed  in  the 
sixteenth  section,  quoted  a  few  pages  back. 

Little  by  little,  and  when  he  was  alone,  his 
"  Soul  would  return  to  itself,"  and  then  he 
forgot  these  worthless  things  thrust  at  him  by 
his  fellow-creatures  ;  so  that  in  this  happier 
mood  his  "thoughts  would  be  deeply  engaged 
with  inquiries  :  How  the  Earth  did  end  ? 
Whether  walls  did  bound  it  .''  or  sudden  preci- 
pices ^     Or  whether  the  Heavens  by  degrees 

^  Centuries  of  Meditation,  iii.  7.  *  iii.  10. 


300  English  Mystics 

did  come  to  touch  it  ;  so  that  the  face  of  the 
Earth  and  Heaven  were  so  near,  that  a  man 
with  difficulty  could  creep  under."  ^ 

Slowly  the  beauty  of  nature  filled  his 
thoughts  again,  and  emptied  his  memory  of 
those  *'  rude,  vulgar,  and  worthless  "  things 
which  had  driven  out  his  first  love  ;  till  at  last 
he  could  say  :  "  By  all  which  I  perceive  that 
my  soul  was  made  to  live  in  communion  with 
God,  in  all  places  of  His  dominion,  and  to  be 
satisfied  with  the  highest  reason  in  all  things. 
After  which  it  so  eagerly  aspired,  that  I 
thought  all  the  gold  and  silver  in  the  world 
but  dirt,  in  comparison  of  satisfaction  in  any  of 
these."  2 

Finally,  it  must  be  noted  that,  however  much 
he  prized  it,  Traherne  could  not  rest  satisfied 
with  the  world's  external  beauty  ;  it  was,  no 
doubt,  the  "  schoolmaster  "  to  bring  him  to 
God  ;  but  it  was  only  a  means,  the  pedagogue 
was  bound  to  give  way  to  the  Father,  the 
physical  world  to  its  Maker,  or  Traherne  would 
have  been  "  of  all  men  the  most  miserable  "  : 
"  Another  time,  in  a  lowering  and  sad  evening, 
being  alone  in  the  field,  where  all  things  were 
dead  and  quiet,  a  certain  want  and  horror  fell 
on  me,  beyond  imagination.  The  unprofit- 
ableness and  silence  of  the  place  dissatisfied 
me  ;    its   wideness     terrified    me  ;     from    the 

'  ibid.,  ii.  17.  ""  ii,  18. 


Nature  Mystics  301 

utmost  ends  of  the  earth  fears  surrounded  me. 
...  1  was  a  weak  and  little  child,  and  had 
forgotten  there  was  a  man  alive  in  the  earth. 
Yet  something  also  of  hope  and  expectation 
comforted  me  from  every  border.  This 
taught  me  .  .  .  that  I  was  made  to  hold 
a  communion  with  the  secrets  of  Divine 
Providence  in  all  the  world.  .  .  .  The  clear 
assurance  of  treasures  everywhere,  God's  care 
and  love.  His  goodness,  wisdom,  and  power, 
His  presence  and  watchfulness  in  all  the  ends 
of  the  earth,  were  my  strength  and  assurance 
for  ever  ;  and  that  these  things,  being  absent 
to  my  eye,  were  my  joys  and  consolations, 
as  present  to  my  understanding  as  the  wideness 
and  emptiness  of  the  Universe  which  I  saw 
before  me."  ^ 

In  his  poem  Desire  he  returns  to  the 
same  theme  of  the  impossibility  of  satisfying 
the  spirit  of  man  with  anything  short  of 
or  other  than  the  knowledge  and  vision  of 
God. 

Baron  von  Hilgel  once  included  Wordsworth 
in  a  list  of  men  who  had  in  their  nature 
"  mystical  elements." 

More  than  that  need  not  be  claimed  for 
Wordsworth  ;  yet  it  would  be  a  vital  blunder 
to  omit  him  from  the  English  mystics,  because, 
whether  people  read  his   poems  or  not,  it  is 

^  iii.  23. 


302  English  Mystics 

admitted  that  he  is  the  representative  nature 
mystic  of  our  race.  A  love  of  nature  has 
endured  in  us  from  the  beginning  ;  it  is 
prominent  in  our  early  literature,  and  did  not 
quite  die  in  the  Augustan  age  of  satires, 
epistles,  and  essays.  But,  beyond  dispute, 
Wordsworth  was,  from  his  earliest  days  of 
consciousness  and  apprehension  of  surround- 
ings, possessed  of  it  with  singular  intensity  ; 
it  was  an  integral  part  of  his  inmost  man. 

In  the  Introduction  I  claimed  that  this  love 
of,  amounting  to  kinship  with,  nature  may  well 
lead  on  to  mysticism.  It  did  so  with  Words- 
worth up  to  a  point.  And  yet  about  him  there 
always  clings,  sometimes  more,  sometimes  less 
obviously,  a  ray  of  that  dry,  chill  century  in 
which  he  was  born.  His  seed-time  years — he 
was  born  in  1770,  and  published  his  first  poems 
in  1793 — saw  the  appearance  of  Adam  Smith's 
Wealth  of  Nations^  Gibbon's  Decline  and  Fall^ 
Burke's  French  Revolution^  Paine's  Rights  oj 
0\/Ian^  Godwin's  Political  Justice  \  strange  food, 
most  of  it,  for  a  poet,  more  especially  as  ot 
the  Poetry  of  Idealism  there  was  none  save 
some  of  Blake's.  Of  course  Wordsworth  was 
heir  of  all  the  past  ages.  Behind  him  stretched 
a  long  roll  of  poets,  of  all  their  work  he  was 
a  freeman.  But  a  writer,  particularly  perhaps 
a  poet,  is  susceptible  to  his  own  surrounding 
'^  age  and  atmosphere.  No  one  could  call  those 
particular    years    in    England     a     favourable 


Nature  Mystics  303 

environment  for  mysticism,  or  indeed  for  the 
expression  of  any  high  spirituality. 

In  that  unsympathetic  moment,  Words- 
worth's youth  was  strangely  moved  by  a 
Presence  in  nature  of  which  his  contempo- 
raries, seemingly,  remained  unaware.  It  is 
quite  impossible  to  hope  to  say  anything  new 
of  a  writer  so  much  written  about,  or  to  find 
a  quotation  illustrative  of  this  quality  in  him 
which  has  not  been  quoted  innumerable  times, 
but  possibly  those  beautiful  lines  in  which, 
after  lamenting  his  failure, — 

a  false  steward  who  hath  much  received 
And  renders  nothing  back, — 

he   sets   forth  the   high   chances  of   his   early 
days,  can  never  be  quite   staled  : — 

Was  it  for  this 
That  one,  the  fairest  of  all  rivers,  loved 
To  blend  his  murmurs  with  my  nurse's  song, 
And,  from  his  alder  shades  and  rocky  falls. 
And  from  his  fords  and  shallows,  sent  a  voice 
That  flowed  along  my  dreams  ?      For  this,  didst  thou, 
O  Derwent,  winding  among  grassy  holms 
When  I  was  looking  on,  a  babe  in  arms. 
Make  ceaseless  music  that  composed  my  thoughts 
To  more  than  infant  softness,  giving  me 
Amid  the  fretful  dwellings  of  mankind 
A  foretaste,  a  dim  earnest,  of  the  calm 
That  Nature  breathes  among  the  hills  and  groves.' 

'   The  Prelude,  Bk.  I. 


304  English  Mystics 

That  lasting,  soundless  peace  which  nature 
gives,  and  which  endures  in  times  and  places 
from  which  external  peace  is  exiled,  has,  and 
must  have,  a  spiritual,  a  mystical  element  ; 
it  is  of  the  soul,  not  only  or  mainly  of  the 
senses. 

There  may  be  too  strong  a  tendency  to 
think  of  Wordsworth  as  one  who  always  saw 
nature  under  a  gentle,  it  would  not  be  too 
much  to  say  a  tame  guise,  in  the  mood,  e.g.,  of 
The  Lines  Written  in  Early  Spring  : — 

The  birds  around  me  hopped  and  played, 
Their  thoughts  I  cannot  measure  : — 
But  the  least  motion  which  they  made, 
It  seemed  a  thrill  of  pleasure. 

The  budding  twigs  spread  out  their  fan, 
To  catch  the  breezy  air  ; 
And  I  must  think,  do  all  I  can, 
That  there  was  pleasure  there. 

But  this  childlike,  almost  childish,  apprecia- 
tion of  nature  yielded  to  a  higher,  sterner, 
grander  vision  : — 

Praise  to  the  end  ! 
Thanks  to  the  means  which  Nature  deigned  to  employ  ; 
Whether  her  fearless  visitings,  or  those 
That  came  with  soft  alarm,  like  hurtless  light 
Opening  the  peaceful  clouds  ;  or  she  would  use 
Severer  interventions,  ministry 
More  palpable,  as  best  might  suit  her  aim.* 

'   The  Prelude. 


Nature  Mystics  305 

Or  again,  in  one  of  his  later  poems  he  writes 
in  this  profounder  mood,  and  here  with  much 
more  definite  ascription  of  the  visible  glory  to 
its  invisible  Source  : — 

Thine  is  the  tranquil  hour,  purpurea!  Eve  ! 
But  long  as  god-like  wish,  or  hope  divine, 
Informs  my  spirit,  ne'er  can  I  believe 
That  this  magnificence  is  wholly  thine  ! 
— From  worlds  not  quickened  by  the  sun 
A  portion  of  the  gift  is  won.' 

There  are  in  the  first  book  of  The  Prelude 
two  excellent  examples  of  his  awe  of  nature  ; 
it  was  by  no  means  only  the  riant  joyousness 
of  which  he  was  aware.  One  is  his  well-known 
account  of  his  playing  truant  in  a  boat  on  the 
lake  late  at  night.  Into  the  midst  of  a  boyish 
freak  there  strikes  suddenly  the  grimness  of  the 
North,  the  mistily-understood  sense  of  aveng- 
ing power,  the  personification  of  natural  force, 
out  of  which,  in  Anglo-Saxon  times,  sprang  the 
dreaded  goddess,  Wyrd  : — 

from  behind  that  craggy  steep  till  then 
The  horizon's  bound,  a  huge  peak,  black  and  huge. 
As  if  with  voluntary  power  instinct 
Upreared  its  head.     I  struck  and  struck  again. 
And  growing  still  in  stature  the  grim  shape 
Towered  up  between  me  and  the  stars,  and  still, 
For  so  it  seemed,  with  purpose  of  its  own 
And  measured  motion  like  a  living  thing. 
Strode  after  me. 

'  Composed  on  an  Bvening  of  extraordinary  Splendour   and 
Beauty. 


3o6  English  Mystics 

That  is  more  than  "  a  poet's  fancy  "  ;  deep 
is  answering  to  deep  ;  nature  for  the  moment 
is  more  than  physical,  and  so  can  strike  a 
responsive  chord  in  a  human  soul. 

Perhaps  subtler  still  is  that  other  experience 
following  on  a  meaner  escapade,  for  this  time 
he  had  stolen  the  poor  prey  from  another  boy's 
trap  : — 

strong  desire 
O'erpowered  my  better  reason,  and   the  bird 
Which  was  the  captive  of  another's  toil 
Became  my  prey  ;   and  when  the  deed  was  done 
I  heard  among  the  solitary  hills 
Low  breathings  coming  after  me,  and  sounds 
Of  undistinguishable  motion,  steps 
Almost  as  silent  as  the  turf  they  trod. 

Mystical,  too,  is  Wordsworth's  sense  of  his 
loss  of  that  intuition  of  a  Presence  behind  the 
visible  world,  that  vision  which  in  his  unsullied 
youth  was  constant  with  him  ;  mystical,  too, 
his  petition  for  its  restoration,  a  petition  for 
the  time  not  granted  : — 

Dread  Power  whom  peace  and  calmness  serve 
No  less  than  Nature's  threatening  voice, 
If  aught  unworthy  be  my  choice. 
From  Thee  if  I  would  swerve  ; 
Oh,  let  Thy  grace  remind  me  of  the  light 
Full  early  lost,  and  fruitlessly  deplored  ; 
Which,  at  the  moment,  on  my  waking  sight 
Appears  to  shine,  by  miracle  restored  ; 
My  soul,  though  yet  confined  to  earth, 
Rejoices  in  a  second  birth  ! 


Nature  Mystics  307 

— 'Tis  past,  the  visionary  splendour  fades  : 
And  night  approaches  with  her  shades.' 

It  would  seem  from  such  passages  as  these, 
and  from  many  others  which  could  easily  be 
collected,  e.g. — 

moon  and  stars 
Were  shining  o'er  my  head.      I  was  alone 
And  seemed  to  be  a  trouble  to  the  peace 
That  dwelt  among  them. — 

that  Wordsworth's  response  to  and  stimulus  by 
nature  were  more  manysided  than  Traherne's, 
against  whom,  indeed,  the  charge  of  monotony 
has  been  urged.  Traherne  seems  rather  like 
a  happy  child  tireless  among  inexhaustible 
treasures  ;  while  Wordsworth  is  an  expectant 
spirit,  on  tiptoe  for  every  passing  influence. 
It  is  noteworthy,  too,  that  he  responded  with 
all  his  senses  :  sound,  colour,  form,  fragrance, 
each  had  its  message  for  him  ;  nothing  was 
too  small  nor  too  big,  too  rare  or  too  common; 
none  failed  of  its  message  : — 

Should  the  chosen  guide 
Be  nothing  better  than  a  wandering  cloud 
1  cannot  miss  my  way,^ 

he  cries  ;  and  then,  in  the  famous  lines  written 
on  Calais  beach,  how  all  the  senses  and    the 

'  ibid.  ^  The  Prelude,  Bk.  I. 


3o8  English  Mystics 

soul  combine  to  receive  nature's  imperishable 
gift  :— 

The  holy  time  is  quiet  as  a  Nun 
Breathless  with  adoration  ;    the  broad  sun 
Is  sinking  down   in   its  tranquillity  ; 
The  gentleness  of  heaven  broods  o'er  the  sea. 
Listen  !    the  mighty   Being  is  awake, 
And  doth  with   His  eternal  motion  make 
A  sound  like  thunder — everlastingly. 

In  the  Tintern  Abbey  lines  there  is  yet 
another  aspect  : — 

The  sounding  cataract 
Haunted  me  like  a  passion  :  the  tall  rock, 
The  mountain,  and  the  deep  and  gloomy  wood, 
Their  colours  and  their  forms,  were  then  to  me 
An  appetite. 

More  impalpable,  more  spiritual  is  his  mood 
when  he  can  say — 

I — while  the  sweet  breath  of  heaven 
Was  blowing  on  my  body — felt  within 
A  correspondent  breeze. 

Wordsworth  responded  to  all  this  material 
loveliness  because  to  him  it  was  only  the 
phenomenal  which  veiled  the  Reality  : — 

Beauty — a  living  Presence  of  the  earth 
Surpassing  the  most  fair  ideal  Forms 
Which  craft  of  delicate  Spirits  hath  composed 
From  Earth's  materials — waits  upon  my  steps  ; 
Pitches  her  tent  before  me  as  I  move, 
An  hourly  neighbour.* 

'  The  Recluse. 


Nature  Mystics  309 

"  Mystical  elements,"  that  is  all  that  Baron 
von  Hiigel  claimed  for  Wordsworth.  Perhaps 
the  fact  is  that  he  had  less  the  love  and  humility 
of  the  mystic  who,  through  purgation,  gropes 
his  way  by  the  flash  and  gleam  of  illumination 
to  final  union,  than  the  vision  of  a  prophet 
conscious  of  some  mission  to  lead,  enlighten, 
and  instruct  others.  The  mystic  is  not  didactic, 
and  it  was  very  difficult  always  for  Wordsworth 
to  rid  himself  entirely  of  that  attitude,  which 
occasionally  betrayed  him  into  dreadful  bana- 
lite^  into  such  an  ending,  for  example,  as  the 
last  verse  of  the  Lines  written  in  Early  Spring. 

Had  Wordsworth  lived  in  a  difi^erent  age, 
in  a  less  conventional  religious  atmosphere, 
he  might  have  had  that  sense  of  personal  sin 
which  provides  so  often  the  reason  for  the 
mystic's  first  step  on  "the  asperous  way." 

It  is  a  common-place  of  criticism  to  say  that 
Wordsworth,  pre-eminently  among  English 
poets,  was  aware  of  a  Real  Presence  behind 
the  obvious  face  of  nature  : — 

I  felt 
Gleams  like  the  flashing  of  a  shield  ; — the  Earth 
And  common  face  of  Nature  spake  to  me 
Rememberable  things.' 

What  is  lacking  in  Wordsworth's  mysticism 
is  the  adoring,  personal  awareness  of  and  long- 

I  The  Prelude,  Bk.  I. 


7 


3IO  English  Mystics 

ing  for  the  "hidden  God."  To  appreciate  this 
we  need  but  compare  these  familiar  lines,  per- 
haps the  most  enraptured  he  ever  wrote, — 

Ye  Presences  of  Nature   in  the   sky 
And  on  the  Earth  !      Ye   Visions  of  the  hills  ! 
And  souls  of  lonely   places  !    can    I  think 
A   vulgar   hope  was  yours  when  ye  employed 
Such  ministry,  when  ye  through  many  a  year 
Haunting  me  thus  among   my  boyish   sports, 
On  caves  and    trees,  upon   the  woods  and  hills, 
Impressed  upon  all  forms    the  characters 
Of  danger  or  desire ;  and  thus  did  make 
The  surface  of  the  universal  earth 
With  triumph  and  delight,  with  hope  and  fear, 
Work  like  a  sea  ?  ' 

with,  shall  we  say  ?  the  close  of  Rollc's  Form 
of  Perfect  Living  :  "  He  makes  them  gather  up 
their  heart  to  them  and  fasten  it  only  in  Him, 
and  opens  to  the  eye  of  their  souls  the  gate  of 
Heaven  ;  and  then  the  fire  of  love  verily  lies  in 
their  heart,  and  burns  within.  .  .  .  For  con- 
templation is  a  sight,  and  they  see  into  Heaven 
with  their  ghostly  eye." 

Wordsworth  is  enchanted  with  nature's 
loveliness  and  withdrawn  peace  :  in  glorious 
musical  verse  he  responds  to  her  call.  But 
the  secret  of  man's  hope  is  enshrined  in 
Rolle's  unjewelled  but  adoring  prose. 

Wordsworth's  very  didacticism,  however, 
preserves  him   from    turning  this  response  to 


ibid. 


Nature  Mystics  311 

nature  into  mere  pantheism.  Not  burning 
love,  for  he  is  too  calm  ;  not  keen  spirituality, 
for  that  is  too  often  blunted  by  a  strange 
common-place ;  but  his  strong  moral  sense 
keeps  him  from  an  impersonal  pantheism. 
The  man  who  wrote  the  Ode  to  Duty^  and  in 
particular  that  stanza — 

Stern   Lawgiver  !  yet  thou  dost  wear 
The  Godhead's  most  benignant  grace  ; 
Nor  know  we  anything  so  fair 
As    is  the  smile  upon   thy  face  : 
Flowers  laugh  before  thee  on  their  beds 
And   fragrance    in    thy   footing  treads ; 
Thou   dost  preserve  the  stars  from  wrong  ; 
And  the  most  ancient  heavens,  through  thee,  are  fresh 
and  strong, 

though  he  might  and  did  lack  the  familiar 
loving  sense  of  a  Person  close  at  hand,  at  all 
events  recognized  His  existence.  The  Im- 
manence of  God  in  nature  is  emphasized  by 
Wordsworth,  may  seem,  as  he  stands  in  the 
midst  of  her  loveliness,  to  predominate  in  his 
mind  ;  but  the  transcendence  is  always  acknow- 
ledged :  and  so  it  can  truly  be  said  of  him  as 
Francis  Thompson  said  of  that  other  Francis, 
of  Assisi,  that  he  "discerned  through  the 
Lamp  Beauty  the  Light  God." 


CHAPTER   VII 

77?^  Tractarians  and  After 

WITH  the  exception  of  the  Cambridge 
Platonists,  whose  work  has  been 
omitted  here  as  its  interest  seems 
to  be  more  definitely  philosophical  and  literary 
than  genuinely  mystical,  England  has  been 
curiously  immune  from  those  "schools"  of 
philosophy,  theology,  poetry,  and  art  with 
which  France,  at  any  rate  recently,  has  been 
so  familiar,  especially  in  poetry.  But  one 
English  "school"  sprang  up,  without  fore- 
thought or  plan  or  deliberate  intention,  one 
whose  influence  is  ever  growing  still  —  the 
school  of  the  Oxford  Tractarians,  whose  birth- 
day was,  as  is  well  known,  July  14,  1833, 
when  Mr.  Keble  preached  the  University 
Sermon  on  Optional  (Apostasy.  Unique  in 
character,  this  association  of  men,  at  once 
distinguished  for  their  intellectual  power  and 
marked  by  their  peculiar  goodness,  achieved 
its  work  by  blending  theology,  philosophy,  and 
poetry.  This  is  true  literally  and  individually 
of  three  out  of  the  four  original  great  leaders, 
Keble,  Newman,  and  Isaac  Williams,  Dr.  Pusey 
confining  himself  mainly  to  theology. 

312 


The  Tractarians  and  After  313 

I  have  nothing  to  do  here  with  the  great 
controversy  between  Rome  and  Canterbury, 
nor  with  reasons  why  some  "went"  and 
others  *'  stayed,"  but  rather  with  that  inner 
conviction  of  the  personal  reality  and  nearness 
of  God,  and  of  the  other  world,  of  that  sense 
in  fact  of  the  supernatural  which  impelled 
them,  whether  as  Roman  or  Anglican  Church- 
men, to  spend  themselves  utterly  in  attempt- 
ing to  strip  off  from  the  hearts  and  minds  of 
their  countrymen  the  devastating  sterility,  the 
flattening  conventionalism  which  was  killing 
spirituality  in  many  English  men  and  women, 
and  which  abundantly  justified  John  Kcble  in 
denouncing  the  National  Apostasy.  Doctrines, 
ceremonies,  ritual,  all  these  of  necessity  entered 
into  the  struggle,  and  soon  bulked  largely, 
often  strangely  and  erroneously,  in  the  popular 
imagination.  But  the  flame  of  the  Tractarian 
Movement  was  love  of  God,  Whom  these 
men  "  knew  directly "  ;  and  their  purpose 
was  the  reclaiming  and  winning  of  other  souls 
to  do  likewise. 

The  three  whom  I  have  mentioned  together 
stand  out  conspicuously  as  of  the  mystical 
temperament  :  perhaps  if  Pusey  seems  less 
obviously  so  it  is  because  of  his  learning  and 
scholarship  which  fixed  themselves  in  the 
popular  mind.  R.  W.  Church,  of  the  next 
generation,  may  be  classed  with  the  three. 

Having  commented  upon  the  frequency  and 


314  English  Mystics 

completeness  with  which  Newman  could, 
almost  simultaneously,  approve  of  and  dislike 
some  plan  or  theory,  Mr.  Wilfrid  Ward  wrote 
these  words  :  "  In  one  so  subtle,  complex, 
intensely  sensitive,  these  opposite  feelings  all 
have  an  intelligible  place.  A  mind  and  imagina- 
tion singularly  alive  to  every  aspect  and  every 
detail  of  each  place,  a  singularly  sensitive  tem- 
perament naturally  views  a  prospect  with  mixed 
feelings.  One  aspect  makes  him  sad,  another 
makes  him  happy.  But  to  the  world  at  large 
such  combinations  are  often  perplexing."  ^ 

Probably  the  subtle  complexity  of  New- 
man's nature  was  as  puzzling  as  that  of 
Gladstone  to  their  contemporaries.  It  is  a 
humorous  fact  that  to-day  the  era  which  was 
distinguished  by  the  work  of  two  such  start- 
lingly  unusual  and  complex  characters  should 
so  often  be  dismissed  by  youthful  critics  as 
negligible,  almost  contemptible. 

However  much  people  may  agree  with  Mr. 
Ward's  view  of  the  kaleidoscopic  character  of 
Newman's  activity,  all  who  know  anything 
about  him  will  agree  that  one  of  his  convic- 
tions never  faltered  or  changed,  not  even  in 
his  darkest  days  of  disappointment,  and  that 
is  his  conviction  of  a  divine  Light  always, 
everywhere  guiding  him. 

In  the  midst  of  his  Sicilian  illness,  in  1833, 


Life  of  John  Henry,  Cardinal  O^eyvman,  vol.  i,  p.  i  7. 


The   Tractarians  and  iAfter  315 

he  kept  saying  to  himself,  "  I  have  not  sinned 
against  light  "  ;  it  is  not  only  Lead,  kindly 
Light  but  other  poems  in  Lyra  Apostolica  which 
show  this  unalterable  conviction  ;  e.g.  the 
first  stanza  of  No.  x,  The  Pains  of  Chdemory^  and 
the  first  one  of  No.  xxiii :  — 

Lord,  in  this  dust  Thy  sovereign  voice 

First  quiclcened  love  divine  ; 
I  am  all  Thine, — Thy  care  and  choice. 

My  very  praise  is  Thine. 

Still  more  definitely  he  claims  illumination 
in  No.  xxxii,  Discipline  : — 

When  I  look  baclc  upon  my  former  race, 

Seasons  I  see,  at  which  the  Inward  Ray 

More  brightly  burned,  or  guided  some  new  way. 

Among  the  contradictions  which  filled  his 
life  is  the  one  which  is  manifested  in  that 
which  is  perhaps  his  most  important  work  : 
viz.  the  strange  fact  that  while  he  himself 
needed,  so  it  would  seem,  no  reasoned  theory 
or  argumentative  basis  for  his  profound  belief 
in  God  ("luminously  self-evident"  was  his 
phrase),  because  he  was  truly  a  mystic,  and 
could  not,  with  all  his  acknowledged  "  ten- 
dency to  general  scepticism,"  rid  himself  had 
he  wished  of  the  sense  of  God's  presence,^ 
yet  he  was  perhaps  more  convinced  than  any 
of  his    contemporaries  of  the  necessity,  then 

'  He  says  expressly  that  his  sense  of  God's  presence  was 
never  "  dimmed  by  even  a  passing  shadow."  {Letters^ 
edited  by  Miss  Anne  Mozley,  vol.  i,  p.    14.) 


3i6  English  Mystics 

and  there,  of  making  the  claims  of  religious 
belief  reasonable,  so  that  average  people  could 
and  would  grasp  them.  With  penetrating 
foresight  he  perceived  the  coming  inrush  of 
materialistic  unbelief  ;  and  the  question  which 
he  put  to  himself  as  a  young  man  at  Oxford 
when,  in  1826,  he  began  the  course  of  those 
famous  fifteen  sermons,  the  University  Sermons^ 
and  which  impelled  him  when  he  was  sixty- 
nine  to  write  The  Grammar  of  tAssent^  was — 
How  can  the  reasonableness  of  religious  belief 
be  brought  home  to  all  men  of  good-will  ? 

It  is  a  tenable  proposition  that  such  a  ques- 
tion may  best  be  answered  by  a  mystic,  for  he 
is  so  certain  of  his  knowledge  by  "  a  more 
excellent  way,"  that  he  need  not  fear  to  give, 
as  some  sometimes  seem  to  do.  Reason  her 
full  scope  and  due. 

In  1847,  when  writing  to  J.  D.  Dalgairns 
about  the  proposed  French  edition  of  these 
Sermons,  Newman  said  :  "  I  am  not  maintain- 
ing what  I  say  is  all  true,  but  I  wish  to  assist  in 
investigating  and  bringing  to  light  great  prin- 
ciples necessary  for  the  day.  .  .  .  And  now, 
after  reading  these  Sermons,  I  must  say,  I 
think  they  are,  as  a  whole,  the  best  things 
I  have  written,  and  I  cannot  believe  they  are 
not  Catholic,  and  will  not  be  useful."  ^ 

Of  course,    every    one   would     expect    his 

'  Quoted  in  Life  of  John  Henry,  Cardinal  Nev9man,  vol.  i, 
p.  173.     By  Wilfrid  Ward. 


The  Tractarians  and  After  317 

mystical  temperament  to  appear  as  it  does  in 
his  poems  ;  but  it  is  not  less  apparent,  and  is 
perhaps  more  potent  in  the  University  Sermons 
and  the  Grammar  of  ^Assent.  Another  sermon, 
which  in  time  stands  between  these  two,  has  in 
it  some  mystical  touches,  and  may  be  dealt 
with  first  here,  out  of  its  natural  order,  that 
called  "  Illuminating  Grace,"  published  among 
his  Discourses  to  Mixed  Congregations^  which  he 
preached  in  Birmingham  in  1849. 

At  the  outset  Newman  states  that  man, 
when  created,  "  was  endowed  withal  with  gifts 
above  his  own  nature,  by  means  of  which  that 
nature  was  perfected,"  and  that  when  he  fell 
he  forfeited  these  gifts,  one  of  them  being 
that  of  "spiritual  sight." 

He  nowhere  in  the  sermon  defines  this 
spiritual  sight,  but  by  it  he  evidently  meant 
a  gift  which  enabled  man  not  to  opine  but  to 
know.  He  then  goes  on  to  consider  the 
relation  between  reason  and  this  knowledge  or 
sight.  Reason  he  expressly  describes  as  "  a 
sort  of  substitute  for  sight."  ^ 

He  maintains  in  effect  that  Reason  alone 
can  never  give  us  more  than  what  is  in  the 
last  resort  an  opinion.  Such  an  opinion  may 
be  quite  often  the  truth,  but  the  weak  point 
is  that  Reason  alone  cannot  assure  us  that  it  is 
so.     What,  then,  do  we  need  }     He  takes  an 

'  'Discourses  to  Mixed  Congregations,  p.  173. 


3i8  English  Mystics 

illustration  to  help,  comparing  the  human  eye 
+  physical  light  to  the  human  reason  +  super- 
natural light.  His  line  of  argument  is  that 
though  we  might  by  groping  in  the  dark 
get  hold  of  some  material  object  we  sought, 
we  could  not  be  sure  it  was  the  very  thing — 
it  might  only  be  something  which  felt  like  it 
— until  we  were  able  to  procure  a  light  and 
see  it  with  our  eyes.  Then  he  argues  that  as 
the  human  eye,  however  good  or  healthy, 
cannot  see  in  the  dark,  so  Reason,  though  it 
may  stumble  on  the  truth,  cannot,  any  more 
than  a  physical  eye  in  the  dark,  be  sure  till  it 
has  supernatural  light. 

The  question  naturally  occurs  here.  Does 
Newman  refer  to  the  mystic's  illumination  .'' 
Probably  at  most  only  to  its  potentiality.  The 
"  spark  at  the  apex  of  the  soul  "  has  by  some 
been  identified  with  "  the  light  that  lighteth 
every  man  coming  into  the  world  "  ;  still  not 
by  any  means  does  every  mortal  develop  into 
a  mystic. 

Newman  certainly  speaks  as  if  this  super- 
natural light  could  be  every  man's  gift  ;  but 
though  this  would  not  separate  it,  necessarily, 
from  mystical  light,  if  S.  John's  be  that,  it  seems 
more  likely  that  he  was  thinking  of  something 
rather  different,  for  the  discourse  drifts  off  into 
the  contention  that  no  one  possesses  this  gift 
in  perfection  save  those  who  join  the  Roman 
Communion. 


The  Tractarians  and  Afte)  319 

If  when  he  used  the  phrase  "  spiritual 
sight,"  Newman  meant  mystical  illumination, 
it  is  plain  that  he  agreed  with  some  people  that 
mysticism  is  impossible  outside  the  Roman 
Communion ;  since,  towards  the  end  ot  the 
sermon,  he  said  :  "  The  great  and  general 
truth  remains  that  nature  cannot  see  God  ; 
and  that  grace  is  the  sole  manner  of  seeing 
Him  ;  and  that  while  grace  enables  us  to  do 
so,  it  also  brings  us  into  His  Church,  and  is 
never  given  us  for  our  illumination,  without 
being  also  given  to  make  us  Catholics."  ^ 
However,  since  these  words  do  not,  for  ex- 
ample, exclude  the  explanation  that  a  gift  may 
be  received  and  thwarted,  and  further  in  the 
light  of  a  letter  to  Keble,  in  which  Newman 
wrote  :  "  You  are  always  with  me,  a  thought 
of  reverence  and  love,  and  there  is  nothing  I 
love  better  than  you  and  Isaac  andCopeland,and 
many  others  I  could  name,  except  Him  whom  I 
ought  to  love  best  of  all,  supremely,"^  it  seems 
probable  that  the  strictest  and  narrowest  inter- 
pretation possible  of  them  might  be  the  wrong 
one  ;  for  it  is  hardly  conceivable  that  he  did  not 
consider  these  men  as  sharing  in  this  light. 

Controversy,  however  inevitable,  results 
often  in  darkening  counsel,  and  is  still  more 
barren  of  good   when  it  obscures  Truth  and 

^    ibid.,  p.  189. 

2  Quoted  in  Life  of  John  Henry,  Cardinal  'Newman,  by 
Wilfrid  Ward.     Vol.  i,  p.  591. 


320  English  Mystics 

blunts  Love.  It  is  wiser  to  look  for  men's 
real,  most  illumined,  meaning  not  in  their 
controversial  but  in  their  philosophical,  still 
more  in  their  devotional,  moments.  In 
Newman's  case  such  "moments"  occur  in 
the  fifteen  Uni)>ersity  Sermons,  wherein  he 
was  attempting  to  unfold  during  "  those 
trying  five  years  from  1841  to  1845"  ^^^ 
nature  and  relation  of  Faith  and  Reason  ; 
in  the  Poems,  and  finally  in  his  great  book — 
written  when  he  was  sixty-nine,  written  years 
after  that  period  in  the  late  'fifties  and  early 
'sixties  when  he  thought  so  hopelessly  of 
himself  as  too  old,  too  disappointed,  too 
negligible  to  do  anything  more  which  might 
be  of  use  to  his  fellow  men — The  Grammar 
of  nAssent,  a  wonderful  achievement  even  for 
him  when   he  was  on  the  verge  of  seventy. 

Of  the  fifteen  University  Sermons,  Newman 
himself  wrote  to  James  Hope  that  he  con- 
sidered it  "  the  best,  not  the  most  perfect, 
book  I  have  done.  I  mean  there  is  more  to 
develop  in  it  though  it  is  imperfect."  His 
estimate  of  it  to  Father  Dalgairns  has  been 
already  quoted. 

These  sermons  surely  can  never  perish 
while  the  English  speech  endures.  Richard 
Holt  Hutton,  an  acute  and  delicate  critic, 
compared  them  with  those  others  to  Mixed 
Congregations,  saying,  as  he  spoke  of  these 
latter,    "  though  they   have  not  to    me    quite 


The   Tractarians  and  After  321 

the  delicate  charm  of  the  reserve  and,  I  might 
almost  say,  the  shy  passion  of  his  Oxford 
Sermons,  they  represent  the  full-blown  blossom 
of  his  genius,  while  the  former  only  show  it  in 
bud." 

Before  we  pass  to  consider  the  mystical 
element  in  the  University  Sermons^  this  critical 
confession  justifies  some  germane  quotations 
from  that  most  profound  and  beautiful 
Discourse  on  the  Passion,  the  most  beauti- 
ful of  all  those  to  Mixed  Congregations^  a. 
supreme  example  of  Newman's  mysticism  and 
devotional  insight.  T/ie  Dolorous  Passion  of 
Catherine  Emmerich  is  one  of  the  classics 
of  mysticism  ;  yet  Newman's  great  exposi- 
tion of  "  The  Mental  Sufferings  of  our 
Lord  in  His  Passion "  is  all  lit  with  a 
passionate  flame  of  love  which  comprehends 
the  subtlest  possibilities  of  spiritual  agony, 
and  which  conveys  something  far  transcend- 
ing all  pictures  of  His  bodily  suffering.  Only 
the  eye  of  the  mystic  could  have  penetrated 
those  dreadful  depths  of  impalpable  pain  : 
"  When  He  determined  to  suffer  the  pain 
of  His  vicarious  passion,  whatever  He  did, 
He  did  as  the  Wise  Man  says,  instanter^ 
earnestly  '  with  His  might '  ;  He  did  not  do 
it  by  halves.  He  did  not  turn  away  His  mind 
from  the  suffering  as  we  do — (how  should 
He,  Who  came  to  suffer.  Who  could  not 
have  suffered   but  of  His  own  act })  no,  He 

Y 


322  English  Mystics 

did  not  say  and  unsay,  do  and  undo  ;  He 
said  and  He  did.  .  .  .  He  took  a  body  in 
order  that  He  might  suffer  ;  He  became  man 
that  He  might  suffer  as  man  ;  and  when  His 
hour  was  come,  that  hour  of  Satan  and  of 
darkness,  .  .  .  He  offered  Himself  wholly, 
a  holocaust,  a  whole  burnt-offering  ; — as  the 
whole  of  His  Body  stretched  out  upon  the 
Cross,  so  the  whole  of  His  Soul,  His  whole 
advertence,  His  whole  consciousness,  a  mind 
awake,  a  sense  acute,  a  living  co-operation, 
a  present  absolute  intention,  not  a  virtual 
permission,  not  a  heathen  submission.   .   .   . 

"  Pain  is  to  be  measured  by  the  power 
of  realizing  it.  God  was  the  sufferer,  God 
suffered  in  His  human  nature  ;  the  Sufferings 
belonged  to  God,  and  were  drunk  up,  were 
drained  out  to  the  bottom  of  the  chalice, 
because  God  drank  them  ;  not  tasted  or 
sipped,  not  flavoured,  disguised  by  human 
medicaments,  as  man  disposes  of  the  cup  of 
anguish." 

When  Newman  has  thus  brought  before  us, 
as  perhaps  no  other  writer  of  our  age  could, 
the  nature  of  the  Sufferer,  he  turns  to  the 
nature  of  the  sufferings  :  "  His  very  memory 
is  laden  with  every  sin  which  has  been  com- 
mitted since  the  fall,  in  all  regions  of  the 
earth,  with  the  pride  of  the  old  giants,  and 
the  lusts  of  the  five  cities,  and  the  obduracy 
of  Egypt,  and  the  ambition  of  Babel,  and  the 


The   Tractarians  and  After  323 

unthankfulness  and  scorn  of  Israel."  Then 
follows  the  heart-piercing  reminder  :  "  Thy 
dearest  are  there,  Thy  Saints  and  Thy  chosen 
are  upon  Thee  ;  the  Three  Apostles,  Peter 
and  James  and  John  ;  but  not  as  comforters, 
but  as  accusers.  .  .  .  All  are  there  but  one.  .  .  . 
She  will  be  near  Thee  on  the  Cross,  She  is 
separated  from  Thee  in  the  garden  .  .  .  her 
virgin  ear  may  not  take  in,  nor  may  her 
immaculate  heart  conceive,  what  is  now  in 
vision  before  Thee.  None  was  equal  to  the 
weight  but  God." 

As  the  woe  culminates  and  presses  in  on 
Newman's  inner  sight,  he  gathers  it  all  up  in 
a  passionate  torrent  :  "  It  is  the  long  history 
of  a  world,  and  God  alone  can  bear  the  load 
of  it.  Hopes  blighted,  vows  broken,  lights 
quenched,  warnings  scorned,  opportunities 
lost  ;  the  innocent  betrayed,  the  young  har- 
dened, the  penitent  relapsing,  the  just  overcome, 
the  aged  failing  ;  the  sophistry  of  misbelief, 
the  wilfulness  of  passion,  the  obduracy  of 
pride,  the  tyranny  of  habit,  the  canker  of 
remorse  ;  the  wasting  fever  of  care,  the  anguish 
of  shame,  the  pining  of  disappointment,  the 
sickness  of  despair  ;  such  cruel,  such  pitiable 
spectacles,  such  heartrending,  revolting,  detest- 
able, maddening  scenes  ;  nay,  the  haggard 
faces,  the  convulsed  lips,  the  flushed  cheek, 
the  dark  brow  of  the  willing  slaves  of  evil, 
they  are  all  before  Him  now  ;  they  are  upon 


324  English  Mystics 

Him  and  in  Him.  They  are  with  Him  instead 
of  that  ineffable  peace  which  has  inhabited  His 
soul  since  the  moment  of  His  conception. 
They  are  upon  Him,  they  are  all  but  His 
own  ;  He  cries  to  His  Father  as  if  He  were 
the  criminal,  not  the  Victim." 

By  the  senses,  by  imagination,  it  would  be 
possible  to  picture  our  Lord's  physical  suffer- 
ings. Without  the  mystical  temperament 
Newman  could  not  have  so  grasped  His 
mental  sufferings. 

Newman  did  not  work  from  the  devotional 
standpoint  only  :  he  is  particularly  noteworthy, 
and  not  only  among  English  Mystics,  for,  if 
one  may  say  so,  justifying  mysticism  from  that 
of  philosophy  too.  The  main  purpose  of 
the  University  Sermons  was  not  mystical  but 
eminently  practical  ;  their  subject  was  the 
Philosophy  of  Faith,  their  aim  to  provide  a 
reasonable  ground  for  religious  belief  to  all 
men  of  good  will. 

They  are  perhaps  less  difficult  than  The 
Grammar  of  Assent^  but  no  man,  however 
precise  his  grasp,  or  delicate  and  apposite  his 
style,  can  make  an  easy  path  for  others  in  that 
ultimate  region  where  philosophy  and  theology 
meet.  He  starts  by  drawing  a  distinction 
between  the  philosopher  and  the  Christian  as 
such  :  "  The  philosopher  confesses  himself  to 
be  imperfect  ;  the  Christian  feels  himself  to  be 
sinful    and    corrupt  ...  he   has,  by  sinning, 


The  Tractarians  and  After  325 

introduced  a  blemish  into  the  work  of  God  .  .  . 
he  is  guilty  in  the  court  of  heaven,  and  is 
continually  doing  things  odious  in  the  sight 
of  the  Divine  holiness."  '  In  the  next  sermon 
he  gives  an  added  mystical  touch  to  this 
distinction,  which  no  one  but  a  mystic  would 
have  put  just  so  :  "The  philosopher  aspires 
towards  a  divine  principle  ;  the  Christian 
towards  a  Divine  Agent."  2 

He  passes  on  to  a  second  distinction,  between 
Natural  and  Revealed  Religion,  making  the 
careful  reservation  that  even  natural  religion 
is  not  the  work  of  unaided  reason  :  "When, 
then,  religion  of  some  sort  is  said  to  be  natural^ 
it  is  not  here  meant  that  any  religious  system 
has  been  actually  traced  out  by  unaided  reason. 
We  know  of  no  such  system,  because  we  know 
of  no  time  or  country  in  which  human  reason 
was  unaided."  3 

At  the  same  time  he  arraigns  the  radical 
weakness  of  the  lack  of  objectivity  inseparable 
from  natural  religion  :  "While,  then,  Natural 
Religion  was  not  without  provision  for  all  the 
deepest  and  truest  religious  feelings,  yet  pre- 
senting no  tangible  history  of  the  Deity,  no 
points  of  His  personal  character  (if  we  may  so 
speak  without  irreverence),  it  wanted  that 
most  efficient  incentive  to  all  action,  a  starting 
or    rallying    point — an    object    on    which    the 

^  Vniversiiy  Sermons,  No.  i.      ^  ibid.,  No.  ii.      3  ibid. 


326  English  Mystics 

affections  could   be   placed,  and   the  energies 
concentrated."  ^ 

In  the  great  closing  chapter  of  The  Grammar 
0/ lessen t  New m3.n  makes  this  same  distinction, 
but  there,  with  the  glowing  eloquence  of  a 
swan-song,  urges  the  supreme  claim  of  Chris- 
tianity :  "  Revelation  begins  where  Natural 
Religion  fails.  The  Religion  of  Nature  is  a 
mere  inchoation,  and  needs  a  complement — it 
can  have  but  one  complement,  and  that  very 
complement  is  Christianity. 

"  Natural  Religion  is  based  upon  the  sense  of 
sin  ;  it  recognizes  the  disease,  but  it  cannot 
find,  it  does  but  look  out  for  the  remedy. 
That  remedy,  both  for  guilt  and  for  moral 
impotence,  is  found  in  the  central  doctrine  of 
Revelation,  the  Mediation  of  Christ.    .   .   . 

"  Thus  it  is  that  Christianity  is  the  fulfilment 
of  the  promise  made  to  Abraham,  and  of  the 
Mosaic  revelations  ;  this  is  how  it  has  been 
able  from  the  first  to  occupy  the  world  and 
gain  a  hold  on  every  class  of  human  society  to 
which  its  preachers  reached.  ...  It  has  with 
it  that  gift  of  staunching  and  healing  the  one 
deep  wound  of  human  nature,  which  avails 
more  for  its  success  than  a  full  encyclopaedia 
of  scientific  knowledge  and  a  whole  library  of 
controversy,  and  therefore  it  must  last  while 
human  nature  lasts.     It  is  a  living  truth  which 

'  Sermon  ii. 


The  Tractarians  and  After  327 

never  can  grow  old  ...  its  power  Is  in  the 
present.  It  is  no  dreary  matter  of  antiquarian- 
ism  ;  we  do  not  contemplate  it  in  conclusions 
drawn  from  dumb  documents  and  dead  events, 
but  by  faith  exercised  in  ever-living  objects, 
and  by  the  appropriation  and  use  of  ever- 
recurring  gifts."  I 

The  expression  differs  widely  from  that  of 
Richard  Rolle,  or  Mother  Julian,  or  Henry 
Vaughan  ;  but,  for  all  that,  we  have  here  the 
mystic's  penetration  to  the  Reality  which 
underlies  this  transitory,  shifting  world. 

Again  with  mystical  insight  he  reveals  not 
the  distinction  but  the  relation  between  natural 
and  revealed  religion  :  —  *' There  is  perhaps 
no  greater  satisfaction  to  the  Christian  than 
that  which  arises  from  his  perceiving  that  the 
revealed  system  is  rooted  deep  in  the  natural 
course  of  things,  of  which  it  is  merely  the 
result  and  completion  ;  that  his  Saviour  has 
interpreted  for  him  the  faint  or  broken  accents 
of  nature  ;  and  that  in  them,  so  interpreted, 
he  has,  as  if  in  some  old  prophecy,  at  once  the 
evidence  and  the  lasting  memorial  of  the  truths 
of  the  Gospel."  2 

If  Newman  be  right  in  this  plea,  those  who 
claim  that  "  nature  mystics  "  can  be  truly 
mystical  are  justified  in  their  contention. 

Equally  and  beautifully  inspired  by  mystical 

'    The  Grammar  of  Assent,  pp.  4.87-8.  '^  Sermon  ii. 


328  English  Mystics 

vision  is  his  assertion  about  the  nature  and 
work  of  revelation  :  "  Revelation  meets  us 
with  simple  and  distinct  facts  and  actions, 
not  with  painful  inductions  from  existing 
phenomena,  not  with  generalized  laws,  or 
metaphysical  conjectures,  but  with  Jesus  and 
the  Resurrection  ;  and,  *  if  Christ  he  not  risen,'  (it 
confesses  plainly)  '  then  is  our  preaching  vain, 
and  your  faith  is  also  vain.'  Facts  such  as 
these  are  not  simply  evidence  of  the  truth  of 
revelation,  but  the  media  of  its  impressiveness. 
The  life  of  Christ  brings  together  and  concen- 
trates truths  concerning  the  chief  good  and  the 
laws  of  our  being,  which  wander  idle  and 
forlorn  over  the  surface  of  the  moral  world, 
and  often  appear  to  diverge  from  one  another. 
It  collects  the  scattered  rays  of  light,  which,  in 
the  first  days  of  creation,  were  poured  over  the 
whole  face  of  nature,  into  certain  intelligible 
centres,  in  the  firmament  of  the  heaven,  to  rule 
over  the  day  and  over  the  night,  and  to  divide 
the  light  from  darkness. ^ 

Thus  vividly  does  Newman  elaborate  the 
great  assurance,  In  Thy  Light  shall  we  see 
Light. 

Thirdly,  he  deals  with  the  difficult  problem 
of  conscience.  His  treatment  of  this  in  the 
University  Sermons  follows  on  his  claim  that 
natural   religion   is  never  the  work  of  unaided 


ibid. 


The   Tractarians  and  After  329 

reason,  since  "  The  Creator  has  never  left 
Himself  without  such  witness  as  might 
anticipate  the  conclusions  of  Reason."  " 

He  argues  first  that  conscience  "brings  with 
it  no  proof  of  its  truth,  and  commands  atten- 
tion to  it  on  its  own  authority,  all  obedience 
to  it  is  of  the  nature  of  Faith"  ;  secondly,  he 
urges  "  the  uncertain  character  ...  of  the 
inward  law  of  right  and  wrong "  ;  and 
thirdly,  that  "  unformed  and  incomplete  as  is 
this  law  by  nature,  it  is  quite  certain  that 
obedience  to  it  is  attended  by  a  continually 
growing  expertness  in  the  Science  of  Morals." 

In  Sermons  xi,  "  The  Nature  of  Faith  in 
Relation  to  Reason,"  and  xiii,  "  Implicit  and 
Explicit  Reason,"  Newman  anticipated  the 
problem  which  concerned  him,  so  much  later 
in  his  life,  in  The  Grammar  of  tAssent. 

In  the  eleventh  sermon  he  speaks  of  faith 
as  "  the  reasoning  of  a  divinely  enlightened 
mind";  he  also  makes  an  unusual  defence, 
but  one  which  he  always  maintained,  of  the 
reasoning  of  the  ordinary  man,  declaring  that 
ordinary  people  "  may  argue  badly,  but  they 
reason  well  ;  that  is  their  professed  grounds 
are  no  sufficient  measures  of  their  real  ones  ;  " 
a  position  which  a  thinker,  as  unlike  him  as 
J.  S.  Mill,  once  upheld  in  his  System  of  Logic ^ 
and  illustrated  by  the  story  of  a  man,  untrained 

»  ibid. 


330  English  Mystics 

in  legal  niceties,  who  was  being  sent  out  as 
a  judge  to  the  Colonies,  and  was  advised  to 
promulge  his  decisions,  but  never  to  give  his 
reasons.  Newman  adds  :  "  In  like  manner, 
though  the  evidence  with  which  Faith  is 
content  is  apparently  inadequate  to  its  purpose, 
yet  this  is  no  proof  of  real  weakness  or  imper- 
fection in  reasoning." 

This  line  of  aro-ument  will  be  made  clearer 
by  one  more  quotation  from  the  eleventh 
sermon  :  "  The  experience  of  life  contains 
abundant  evidence  that  in  practical  matters, 
when  their  minds  are  really  roused,  men 
commonly  are  not  bad  reasoners.  Men  do 
not  mistake  when  their  interest  is  concerned. 
They  have  an  instinctive  sense  in  which 
direction  their  path  lies  towards  it,  and  how 
they  must  act  consistently  with  self-preserva- 
tion or  self-aggrandisement."  He  argues  that 
this  same  quality  is  visible  outside  practical 
everyday  life,  viz.  in  the  spheres  of  politics 
and  religion.  The  point  of  importance  here 
is  that  reason  according  to  him  works  well 
when  self-interest  is  also  at  work.  Now  self- 
interest  is  in  the  sphere  of  feeling,  and  there- 
fore, though  on  an  infinitely  lower  plane,  this 
plea  is  akin  to  the  mystic's  that  knowledge  is 
not  perfected  save  in  an  atmosphere  of  love. 

Quite  clearly  in  this  sermon  preached  in 
1839  Newman  is  groping  after  that  which 
many  years  later  he  called  the  Illative  Sense, 


The  Tractarians  and  After  331 

and  which  in  The  Grammar  of  ^Assent  he  set 
forth  fully,  so  making  his  own  personal  con- 
tribution to  philosophy. 

He  continued  this  subject  in  the  thirteenth 
sermon,  when  he  declared  that  "  Reasoning 
...  is  a  living  spontaneous  energy  within  us, 
not  an  Art,"  and  is  not  to  be  confounded  with 
that  analysis  of  the  process  of  reasoning  which 
we  call  logic.  After  making  the  very  useful 
suggestion  about  the  difference  with  which 
any  given  "  argument  strikes  the  mind  at  one 
time  and  another,  according  to  its  particular 
state,  or  the  accident  of  the  moment,"  and 
declaring  that  "  the  recondite  reasons  which 
lead  each  person  to  take  or  decline  them  are 
just  the  most  important  portion  of  the  con- 
siderations on  which  his  conviction  depends," 
he  proceeds  to  propound  that  characteristic  plea 
that  "  conviction  for  the  most  part  follows  not 
upon  any  one  great  or  discursive  proof  or 
token  of  the  point  in  debate,  but  upon  a 
number  of  very  minute  circumstances  together, 
which  the  mind  is  quite  unable  to  count  up 
and  methodize  in  an  argumentative  form." 

This  sermon  too  leads  on  to  The  Grammar 
of  Assent^  whose  main  thought  is,  as  Mr. 
Wilfrid  Ward  has  written,  that  there  are 
"  grounds  of  conviction  too  personal  to  be 
adequately  expressed."  ^ 

'  Life  of  Qardinal  Crewman,  vol.  ii,  p.  i^^- 


332  English  Mystics 

To  be  appreciated  this  book,  which  posterity 
will  surely  regard  as  his  greatest  work,  must 
be  read,  and  not  once  only.  The  single  point 
which  can  be  dealt  with  here  is  that  of  its  core, 
the  Illative  Sense,  for  it  is  in  dealing  with  that, 
his  marked  contribution  to  philosophy,  that 
his  fundamental  mysticism  appears. 

"  Certitude,"  he  observes,  "  is  a  mental 
state  ;  certainty  is  a  quality  of  propositions."  ^ 
As  he  remarks,  "  We  are  in  a  world  of  facts, 
and  we  use  them,  for  there  is  nothing  else  to 
use."  Certitude  itself  is  a  fact.  However 
sceptical  a  man  may  be,  he  surely  would  not 
contend  that  he  had  never  been  in  a  state  of 
certitude,  for  in  that  very  statement  he  would 
convict  himself,  as  he  also  would  if  he  asserted 
that  he  did  not  know  whether  he  had  been  or 
not.  Every  one  of  us  must  be  certain  of 
something,  even  were  it  of  so  dolorous  a 
state  as  universal  doubt. 

The  question  which  confronted  Newman 
and  confronts  all  of  us  is.  What  is  the  power, 
beyond  and  outside  arguments  and  reasoning, 
which,  in  the  human  sciences,  though  not  in 
mathematics  where  proof  is  demonstrable,  is 
responsible  for  the  state  of  certitude  .''  New- 
man replies  that  it  is  the  lilati')>e  Sense,  and  in 
trying  to  make  clear  its  nature  and  function  he 
claims  that  on  the  intellectual  side  of  our  life 

'  The  Grammar  of  m^ssent,  p.  344. 


The   Tractarians  and  After  333 

this  sense  is  precisely  parallel  to  judgement 
(Aristotle's  (ppovtjaii)  in  conduct,  or  to  taste 
in  art.  Raised  to  and  operative  in  the  relig- 
ious sphere,  this  Illative  Sense  would  be 
the  mystic's  direct  knowledge,  "  the  flight 
of  the  alone  to  the  Alone." 

It  is  Newman's  great  distinction  that  he 
was  fundamentally  a  mystic:  his  outlook  on 
life  was  in  one  piece  ;  his  standpoint  was 
mystical  throughout,  from  his  treatment  of 
the  practical  average  man's  "  natural  "  right 
reasoning,  through  all  the  ramifications  of 
human  development,  till  he  rose  to  the 
vision  of  God,  and  his — 

soul  became  as  purest  glass 
Through  which  the   Brightness  Incarnate 
In   undimmed  majesty  might  pass 
Transparent  and  illuminate. 

When  Newman  left  the  English  Church  in 
1845  ^'"''^  °^  ^^^  friends,  James  Mozley,  wrote 
in  The  Christian  Remembrancer  words  which  are 
not  only  applicable  in  any  time  of  fundamental 
disruption,  but  which  also  testified  to  the  truly 
mystical  spirit  at  work  in  the  Tractarian 
Movement,  This,  perhaps  the  most  poignant 
of  Tractarian  documents,  remains  to  wring 
the  hearts  of  those  who,  being  neither  fierce 
sectaries  nor  casual  indifferentists,  know  the 
intolerable  pain  of  that  division  which  issues 
from  a  steadfast  adherence  to  abstract  truth 
seen  thus  by  one,  otherwise  by  another,  which 


334  English  Mystics 

both  alike  admit  to  be  severally  obligatory  : 
"  Let  nobody  complain  :  a  time  must  come, 
sooner  or  later,  in  every  one's  life,  when  he 
has  to  part  with  advantages,  connections,  sup- 
ports, consolations  that  he  has  had  hitherto, 
and  face  a  new  state  of  things.  Every 
one  knows  that  he  is  not  always  to  have 
all  that  he  has  now.  He  says  to  himself, 
'  What  shall  I  do  when  this  or  that  stay  or 
connection  is  gone.''  '  and  the  answer  is,  'That 
he  will  do  without  it.'  .  .  .  The  time  comes 
when  this  is  taken  away,  and  then  the  mind 
is  left  alone,  and  is  thrown  back  upon  itself 
as  the  expression  is.  But  no  religious  mind 
tolerates  the  notion  of  being  really  thrown 
upon  itself;  this  is  only  to  say  in  other  words, 
that  it  is  thrown  back  upon  God."  In  the 
solemn  fall  of  these  simple  words  is  enshrined 
the  essence  of  that  Detachment  which  is  every 
mystic's  necessary  achievement. 

If  this  absolute  detachment  were  most  sig- 
nally shown  by  one  of  the  Tractarians,  surely 
that  one  was  Isaac  Williams.  The  tie  between 
him  and  Newman  could  not  be  broken  ;  yet 
of  all  Newman's  friends,  Williams  was  the 
most  unshaken  during  the  difficult  years  of 
"the  'forties,"  and  the  most  unyielding,  then 
and  after,  in  his  defence  of  the  English  Church. 
He  was  never  for  a  moment  carried  off  his 
feet  by  his  love  for  Newman.  As  he  wrote 
in   his  zAutobtography  \    "Nothing  had   as   yet 


The  Tractarians  and  After  335 

impaired  my  friendship  with  Newman.  We 
lived  daily  very  much  together  ;  but  I  had 
a  secret  uneasiness,  not  from  anything  said  or 
implied,  but  from  a  want  of  repose  about  his 
character,  that  I  thought  he  would  start  into 
some  line  different  from  Keble  and  Pusey, 
though  I  knew  not  in  what  direction  it  might 
be."  I 

He  would  not  diverge  one  iota  from  his 
convictions,  under  the  influence  of  any  human 
affection,  as  he  rather  felt  and  feared  Keble 
might :  "  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  there  was 
ever  any  real  difference  of  opinion  between 
John  Keble  and  myself,  it  was  only  when 
Newman  and  others  were  in  their  transition 
state,  and  before  they  left,  John  Keble,  for 
love's  sake,  held  with  them  ;  and  I  wished 
always  to  show  that  it  was  himself,  his  own 
former  self,  that  was  to  be  trusted,  and  that 
these  notions  did  not  belong  to  him.  And 
as  soon  as  they  had  left  us  it  was  otherwise. 
*  Now  that  I  have  thrown  off  Newman's  yoke,' 
said  he  one  day  to  me,  *  these  things  appear  to 
me  quite  different.'  " 

No  one  can  fancy  that  this  staunchness  of 
purpose  issued  from  hardness,  or  from  any 
slightest  diminution  of  affection,  when  he 
remembers  Newman's  letter  of  March,  1865, 
to  Williams  :  "  I  don't  forget,  but  remember 

'  Autobiography  :   Isaac  Williams,  p.  loi.    (Longmans.) 


336  English  Mystics 

with  much  gratitude  how  for  twenty  years  you 
are  perhaps  the  only  one  of  my  old  friends 
who  has  never  lost  sight  of  me — but  by  letters, 
or  messages,  or  inquiries  have  ever  kept  up 
the  memory  of  past  and  happy  days.  How 
mysterious  it  is  that  the  holiest  ties  are  swept 
and  cast  to  the  winds  by  the  holiest  promptings 
— and  that  they  who  would  fain  live  together 
in  a  covenant  of  gospel  peace,  hear  each  of 
them  a  voice,  and  a  contrary  voice,  calling  on 
them  to  break  it."  ^ 

Surely,  if  anything  could  be,  this  letter  is 
a  testimony  to  the  fact  that  these  two  men, 
resolutely  set  on  finding  and  keeping  the  truth, 
were  absolutely  obedient  to  that  inner  mystical 
light  which  gives  a  surer  conviction  than  any 
dialectics.  After  Williams'  death,  Newman's 
letter  to  Sir  George  Prevost  bears  witness  not 
only  to  the  indestructible  love  which  bound 
these  two  Tractarian  leaders  together,  but  to 
the  former's  wonderful  detachment  :  "  I  have 
been  planning  another  visit  to  dear  Isaac,  and 
your  letter  comes.  My  first  sad  thought  is 
that  in  a  certain  sense  I  have  killed  him,  I 
am  sure  so  it  is,  that  he  did  not  rally  after 
driving  me  down  to  the  station.  He  has 
really  been  a  victim  of  his  old  love  for  me. 
He  has  never  lost  sight — ever  inquiring  about 
me  from  others,  sending  messages  or  writing 

^  ibid.,  p.  134. 


The   Tractarians  and  After  337 

to  me.  .  .  .  Well,  I  have  sent  him  out  of 
a  world  in  which  he  had  no  part,  except  so 
far  as  it  contained  souls,  with  whom  he  was 
so  lovingly  bound  up.  ...  I  shall  say  Mass 
(if  all  is  well)  on  Saturday  for  his  dear  soul  ; 
and  so  will  Mr.  St.  John.  May  God  wash  it 
white  in  His  most  precious  blood,  and  receive 
it  into  that  eternal  peace  and  light  which  it 
coveted  above  all  things."  ^ 

If  in  all  these  extracts  there  be  nothing  of 
the  mystic's  usual  phraseology,  they  are  in- 
stinct with  its  temper  and  outlook  :  the  love 
of  God  above  all  things,  the  love  of  souls, 
utter  detachment,  self-stripping,  scorn  ot 
material  consequences.  All  these  forged  an 
unbreakable  link  between  the  men  of  the 
Tractarian  Movement,  which  even  the  miseries 
of  controversy  were  powerless  to  weaken  or 
undo.  Writing  of  Oxford  Tractarianism, 
Dean  Church  said  :  "  Its  leaders  were  men 
well  known  in  the  University,  in  the  first  rank 
in  point  of  ability  and  character  ;  men  of 
learning  who  knew  what  they  were  talking 
about  ;  men  of  religious  and  pure,  if  also 
of  severe  lives.  They  were  not  men  merely 
of  speculation  and  criticism,  but  men  ready 
to  forgo  anything,  to  devote  everything  for 
the  practical  work  of  elevating  religious 
thought  and  life."  2 

'  pp.  134-6. 

^   R.  W.  Church,  The  Oxford  Mo'Vement,  p.  212. 

Z 


338  English  Mystics 

The  great  mystical  classics  of  England  lay 
forgotten,  unnoticed  ;  only  very  recently  have 
some  of  them  been  exhumed.  Generation 
had  passed  after  generation,  and  too  often 
controversy  had  consumed  the  energy  and 
hours  which  devotion  might  have  used.  But 
at  any  rate  the  spirit  of  the  mystics  was  alive 
again  in  the  Tractarians  :  their  single-minded 
courage,  their  entire  absorption  in  holy  things, 
their  penetrating  vision,  their  love,  all  mark 
them  off  from  that  great  mass  of  mankind 
who,  in  every  era,  rise  no  higher,  even  if 
they  achieve  that  much,  than  a  conventional 
acceptance  of  a  creed  and  practice  handed  to 
them,  whose  underlying,  vital,  burning 
realities  have  never  dawned  upon  them,  to 
whose  call  they  are  deaf,  whose  content  is 
unperceived,  undreamed,  it  is  hardly  too 
much  to  say,  undesired.  It  was  to  bring 
back  the  individuals  composing  that  great 
mass  that  Keble  toiled,  as  he  wrote  in  that 
apostrophe  to  his  lonely  study's  lamp  : — 

There  was  a  time,  my  friendly  Lamp, 

When,  far  and  wide,  in  Jesus'  camp, 

Oft  as  the   foe  dark  inroads  made, 

They  watched  and  fasted,  wept  and  prayed  ; 

But  now,   they  feast  and  slumber  on. 

And  say,   "Why   pine   o'er  evil   done?" 

The   Hours   of  Prayer,  in    welcome  round. 
Far-severed   hearts  together  bound  : 
Seven   times   a  day,  on  bended  knee. 
They  to  their  Saviour  cried  ;  and  we — 


The   Tractarians  and  Afte?  339 

One  hour  we  find  in  seven  long  days, 
Before  our  God  to  sit  and  gaze  !  ' 

In  his  sermon  on  "Iniquity  Abounding" 
Keble  said  :  "  If  there  be  any  one  temper  of 
mind  which  suits  better  than  others  with  so 
awful  a  situation  as  Christians  are  now  placed 
in,  it  is  the  temper  of  perfect  resignation 
and  singleness  of  purpose,  a  constant  inward 
appeal,  as  it  were,  from  a  bad  and  seducing 
world  to  a  good  God,  Who  cannot  flatter 
or  deceive  us.  These  dispositions  will  carry 
us  through  all  our  duties  whether  public  or 
private,  with  the  least  possible  countenance  to 
the  prevailing  degeneracy,  and  with  as  much 
real,  inward  satisfaction  as  can  prudently  be 
looked  for  in  the  present  state  of  things. "2 

It  is  no  doubt  a  far  cry  from  a  remote  little 
Yorkshire  village  in  the  fourteenth  century  to 
academic  Oxford  of  1823  ;  but,  for  all  that, 
Richard  Rolle  would  have  no  difficulty  in 
recognizing  across  the  ages  a  brother-soul  in 
John  Keble.  Of  late  years  it  has  been  urged 
against  the  Tractarians  that  they  cared  too 
little  for  ritual  and  ceremonial.  In  so  far  as 
that  is  true,  it  may  have  been  partly  the  result 
of  circumstances.  When  a  surplice  in  the 
pulpit  was  the  signal  for  a  riot  who  can  say 
what  would  have  happened  over  a  chasuble 
at    the    altar .?      But    it    is    arguable    that    the 

'  Lyra  Apostolica,  Ixiv. 

^   Academical  Sermons.     Original  Edition,  pp.  103-4. 


340  English  Mystics 

alleged  fact,  so  far  as  it  is  one,  was  the 
outcome  of  their  truly  mystical  character, 
which,  piercing  the  surface,  penetrated  to  the 
underlying  reality  ;  and  this  so  naturally  that 
in  their  concentration  upon,  and  absorption 
in  sound  doctrine  they  underrated  the  ordin- 
ary man's  ability  to  see  and  appreciate  it,  in 
the  total  absence  of  that  ritual  and  ceremonial 
which  are  its  outward  garment,  and  which 
often  are  the  original,  though  not  the  final, 
attraction  to  a  so-far  untaught  heart  and  mind. 
This  natural  affinity  for  the  inside  reality, 
which  is  really  the  essence  of  the  mystical 
temper,  appears  incessantly.  In  the  birthday 
sermon  of  the  Movement,  Keble's  on  National 
tApostas)\  after  pleading  the  appositeness  of  Old 
Testament  teaching  and  warning  to  us  of  the 
Christian  Dispensation,  he  said  :  "  As  regards 
reward  and  punishment,  God  dealt  formerly 
with  the  Jewish  people  in  a  manner  analogous 
to  that  in  which  He  deals  now,  not  so  much 
with  Christian  nations  as  with  the  souls  of 
individual  Christians.  .  .  .  Rewards  and 
punishments  may  be  dispensed,  visibly  at  least, 
with  a  less  even  hand  ;  but  what  tempers  and 
what  conduct  God  will  ultimately  reward  and 
punish,  this  is  a  point  which  cannot  be  changed  ; 
for  it  depends  not  on  our  circumstances,  but 
on  His  essential,  unvarying  Attributes,"  ^ 

'  ibid.,  p.  130. 


The  Tractarians  and  After  341 

The  inner  temper  and  attitude  of  men,  that 
was  for  Keble  la  '^raie  yirite^  and  it  did  not 
matter  if  the  owner  of  it  were  a  king  of  ancient 
Israel,  or  a  member  of  the  British  Government 
of  1833,  whose  attitude  to  the  English  Church 
was  a  matter  of  such  grave  anxiety  to  that 
small  band  of  Oxford  divines  on  whose  eyes 
the  great  vision  of  restoring  the  kingdom  had 
opened.  In  the  same  sermon  Keble  said 
insistently  :  "  I  do  not  now  speak  of  public 
measures  only  or  chiefly.  .  .  .  But  I  speak  of 
the  spirit."  '  When  he  dealt  with  the  possi- 
bility that  the  national  Government  might 
trample  the  Apostolical  Church  underfoot, 
and  inquired  what  then  would  be  the  duty 
of  her  faithful  children,  his  answer  is  one 
which  none  but  a  mystic  would  put  just  so  : 
"  The  Church  would,  first  of  all,  have  to  be 
constant,  as  before,  in  intercession.  .  .  .  That 
duty  once  well  and  cordially  performed,  all 
other  duties,  so  to  speak,  are  secured.  Can- 
dour, respectfulness,  guarded  language — all 
that  the  Apostle  meant  in  warning  men  not  to 
*  speak  evil  of  dignities  ' — may  then,  and  then 
only,  be  practised,  without  compromise  of 
truth  and  fortitude,  when  the  habit  is  attained 
of  praying  as  we  ought  for  the  very  enemies  of 
our  precious  and  holy  cause. 

"  The  constant  sense  of  God's  presence  and 

'  p.  137- 


342  English  Mystics 

consequent  certainty  of  final  success,  which  can 
be  kept  up  no  other  way,  would  also  prove  an 
effectual  bar  against  the  more  silent,  but  hardly 
less  malevolent,  feeling  of  disgust,  almost 
amounting  to  misanthropy,  which  is  apt  to  lay 
hold  on  sensitive  minds,  when  they  see  oppres- 
sion and  wrong  triumphant  on  a  large  scale." 

In  this  passage  there  is  not  only  evidence 
of  a  disciplined,  purged,  illumined  heart  set 
irrevocably  on  realizing  a  far-off  vision,  but 
there  is  that  most  apt  and  necessary  warning 
to  all  who  take  any  reform  in  hand  not  to  ruin 
their  own  souls  by  the  untempered  fierceness 
with  which  they  fight  for  a  cause,  most  just, 
most  necessary,  but  only  to  be  won  effectually 
by  those  who  fight  in  a  spirit  of  self-discipline, 
with  a  calm  temper  and  a  heart  undefiled  by 
personal  hatred. 

When  Keble  passes  on  to  the  second  duty 
of  the  Church's  children  in  times  of  attack  and 
persecution,  the  performance  of  it,  he  insists, 
must  be  marked  by  similar  chastened  confidence 
and  calm  :  "  Remonstrance  calm,  distinct,  and 
persevering,  in  public  and  in  private,  direct 
and  indirect,  by  word,  look,  and  demeanour, 
is  the  unequivocal  duty  of  every  Christian, 
according  to  his  opportunities  when  the  Church 
landmarks  are  being  broken  down."  i 

It  has  been  said  that  "  The  equable  tempera- 

^   ibid.,  p.  144. 


The   Tractarians  and  After  343 

ment  is  seldom  bestowed  on  those  who  have 
to  fight  for  a  great  object  against  great  odds."  ' 
That  is  veiy  likely  true.  But  Keble  and  the 
other  early  Tractarians  perceived  that  great 
battles  can  only  be  rightly  won  by  those  who, 
whatever  their  natural  temperament,  have 
learned  the  lessons  of  self-purgation,  self- 
control,  self-surrender.  To  that  surely  is 
due  the  security  of  their  work. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Dean  Church 
deprecated  the  publication  of  two  of  the 
Tracts  for  the  Times,  writing  :  "  Two  other 
essays  appeared  in  the  Tracts,  most  innocent 
in  themselves,  which  ten  or  twenty  years 
later  would  have  been  judged  simply  on  their 
merits,  but  which  at  the  time  became  potent 
weapons  against  Tractarianism.  They  were 
the  productions  of  two  poets,  of  two  of 
the  most  beautiful  and  religious  minds  of 
their  time  ;  but  at  this  stage  of  the  move- 
ment it  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  they 
were  out  of  place.  .  .  .  The  first  of  these 
inopportune  Tracts  was  an  elaborate  essay,  by 
Mr.  Keble,  on  the  '  Mysticism  of  the  Fathers 
in  the  use  and  interpretation  of  Scripture.'  .  .  . 
The  other,  to  the  astonishment  of  every  one, 
was  like  the  explosion  of  a  mine.  ...  It 
was  called  '  On  Reserve  in  communicating 
Religious   Knowledge.'  .   .   .     The  Tract  was 

'  Miss  E.  K.  Sanders,  Angelique  of  Port  Royal. 


344  English  Mystics 

in  many  ways  a  beautiful  and  suggestive  essay, 
full  of  deep  and  original  thoughts,  though 
composed  in  that  spirit  of  the  recluse  which 
was  characteristic  of  the  writer,  and  which  is 
in  strong  contrast  with  the  energetic  temper 
of  to-day.  But  it  could  well  have  been  spared 
at  the  moment,  and  it  certainly  offered  itself 
to  an  unfortunate  use.  The  suspiciousness 
which  so  innocently  it  helped  to  awaken  and 
confirm  was  never  again  allayed."  ^ 

If  it  be  trite  to  suggest  that  in  every  great 
controversy  the  actual  combatants  must  fail 
to  gauge  the  precisely  relative  significance  of 
moments  in  the  contest,  it  may  perhaps  be 
said  that  both  of  these  "  inopportune  "  Tracts 
were  addressed  ad  Clerum^  but  fell  also  into 
the  hands  of  some  people  who  then,  as  others 
do  now,  regarded  theology  as  one  of  the  sub- 
jects on  which  every  one,  however  untrained 
and  uninformed,  is  competent  to  pronounce 
judgement. 

Without  this  particular  Tract,  On  Reserve^ 
those  who  came  after,  those  who  were  to 
rebuild  on  Tractarian  foundations,  would  have 
had  far  less  insight  into  the  author's  mysticism. 
It  escapes  throughout  the  Tract,  even  though, 
as  1  have  said,  the  usual  phraseology  of  the 
mystics  is  nowhere  obtrusive.  "  I  would 
say,"  he  writes,  "  that  there  appears  in  God's 

'    R.  W.  Church,  The  Oxford  Movement,  pp.  229-30. 


The  Tractarians  and  After        ■    345 

manifestations  of  Himself  to  mankind,  in 
conjunction  with  an  exceeding  desire  to  com- 
municate that  knowledge,  a  tendency  to  con- 
ceal and  throw  a  veil  over  it,  as  if  it  were 
injurious  to  us,  unless  we  were  of  a  certain 
disposition  to  receive  it."  Again  he  says  : 
"  In  the  Old  Testament  itself,  are  there 
not  passages  that  refer  to  this  reserve  of 
wisdom  ?  What  is  the  meaning  of  that  ex- 
pression (in  Proverbs  xxv.  2)  :  *  It  is  the 
glory  of  God  to  conceal  a  matter '  ?  Does 
it  not  allude  to  this  ?" 

Still  more  clearly  mystical  passages  follow 
when  he  indicates  the  necessity  of  a  cleansed 
and  loving  heart  before  illumination  can  come  : 
"  As  He  is  revealed  to  us  as  more  than  willing 
to  forgive,  but  as  it  were  unable  to  do  so 
unless  we  repent,  in  like  manner  He  is  also 
as  desirous  to  manifest  Himself  to  us,  but,  as 
it  were,  unable  to  do  so  unless  we  are  fitly 
disposed  for  it."  And  once  more,  "What  is 
much  to  be  observed  with  regard  to  those 
expressions  of  our  Lord  is  that  the  not  under- 
standing of  them  was  considered  as  matter 
of  reproof,  as  implying  something  morally 
deficient,  not  intellectually."  The  same  line 
of  thought  occurs  in  his  Commentary  on  the 
Apocalypse,  where,  in  section  ii,  chapter  v,  he 
deals  with  the  "  sealed  books." 

The  second  part  of  the  Tract  is  more 
definitely  mystical  than  the  first.     After  point- 


34^  English  Mystics 

ing   out   that   pre-Christian   moralists  "  speak 
of   a    state    of   probation    as    being    one    of 
increasing  moral  light  or  of  increasing  dark- 
ness,"   and     that    in    Aristotle's    view    "  the 
whole  of  improvement  .   .   .   seems  to  be   an 
increase  in   knowledge  ;  and  a  preparation  of 
the  heart   to   a  discernment    ever   clearer  and 
more    clear    of  the    highest    wisdom  ;    and    a 
cordial  embracing  of  and  resting  in  the  contem- 
plation of  truths  which  are  at  length  disclosed 
to  it.     For  he  not  only  considers  goodness  to 
lead  to,  and   consist  in,  improved  moral  and 
practical  discernment  (^(ppovtjcrii),  but  this  dis- 
cernment as  subservient  to  the  attainment  of 
some  higher  wisdom  (cro^/a),"  Isaac  Williams 
goes  on  to  remark  that  "  Scripture  speaks  of 
this   Divine   knowledge   as,  in   some    especial 
manner,  the   gift   of  God.   .  .   .     Those   pre- 
eminent   saints    of  God,   Abraham,    S.    John, 
S.  Paul,  seem  to  stand  out,  as  it  were,  from 
the  human  race  by  a  kind  of  solitude  of  spirit, 
from  their  minds  appearing  to  be  conversant 
with  things  above  human  nature.     Abraham, 
of  whom  it  is  said,  on  account  of  his  obedience, 
*  Shall  I  hide  from  Abraham  the  thing  which 
I  do  .'''     S.  Paul,  who  saw  things  that  it  was 
not   lawful   for   man    to    utter  ;   and    S.  John, 
whose  character  is  not  more  strongly  marked 
for  that  divine   love   for  which  he   is  known 
than    for    what    may  be  termed,   very   inade- 
quately, heavenly  contemplation." 


The  Tractarians  and  After  347 

He  tries  to  describe  the  nature  of  this  know- 
ledge :  "This  knowledge  is  always  spoken  of  as 
something  so  vast,  and,  as  I  said,  infinite,  that 
persons  seem  never  to  be  addressed  as  if  they 
had  attained,  but  rather  to  be  urged  on  to  the 
greater  attainment  ;  it  does  not  seem  to  be 
spoken  of  in  terms  such  as  Peace  and  even 
Faith,  but  more  like  Divine  Charity,  and, 
perhaps,  as  co-existent  and  co-extensive  with 
it,  as  a  part  only  at  best  of  what  is  bound- 
less, and  will  be  more  fully  developed  here- 
after." 

One  more  quotation  from  this  Tract  must 
suffice:  "The  next  point  to  be  observed  is, 
that  this  hidden  wisdom  is  entirely  of  a  moral 
nature,  and  independent  of  any  mere  cultiva- 
tion of  the  intellect.  .  .  .  S.  John  often 
mentions  this  knowledge  in  connection  with 
love,  and  such  love  as  the  result  of  obedience. 
And  experience  thus  confirms  it  :  actions  of 
self-denial  dispose  the  heart  to  prayer,  prayer 
to  the  love  of  God,  and  the  love  of  God  to 
the  knowledge  of  Him.  .   .  . 

"  Moreover,  it  is  to  such  as  Daniel,  *the  man 
of  loves,'  which  are  divine  and  not  earthly, 
that  revelations  are  made." 

It  may  be  noted  that  he  had  the  true 
mystic's  fear  of  false  mysticism,  of  being 
misled,  a  point  on  which  Pere  Poulain  en- 
larges in  his  great  book  on  mysticism,  T^es 
Graces  d'Oraison.     Isaac  Williams'  sonnet  on 


348  English  Mystics 

Origen  is  sufficient  proof  that  in  the  region 
of  mysticism  he  still  kept  that  steady,  balanced 
mood  which  neither  underrates  nor  overrates 
the  component  parts  of  a  situation  : — 

Into  God's  Word,  as  in  a  palace  fair, 
Thou  leadest  on  and  on,  while  still  beyond 
Each  chamber,  touched  hy  holy  wisdom's  wand, 
Another  opes,  more  beautiful  and  rare  ; 
And  thou  in  each  art  kneeling  down  in  prayer, 
From  link  to  link  of  that  mysterious  bond 
Seeking  for  Christ  ;  but  oh,  I  fear  thy  fond 
And  beautiful  torch,  that  with  so  bright  a  glare 
Lighteth  up  all  things,  lest  the  heaven-lit  brand 
Of  thy  serene  Philosophy  divine 
Should  take  the  colourings  of  earthly  thought, 
And  I,  by  their  sweet  images  o'erwrought. 
Led  by  weak  Fancy  should  let  go  Truth's  hand 
And  miss  the  way  into  the  inner  shrine.' 

There  can  be  no  doubt  in  the  mind  of 
any  one  acquainted  with  the  mystics  that 
Isaac  Williams  was  of  their  company.  Dean 
Church's  estimate  of  him  as  he  appeared  to 
the  public,  in  spite  of  his  character  which 
justified  the  very  opposite  of  this  popular 
view,  is  no  bad  evidence  of  the  blinding 
effect  of  a  controversial  spirit  :  "  Isaac  Wil- 
liams, if  any  man,  represented  in  the  Move- 
ment the  moderate  and  unobtrusive  way  of 
religious  teaching.  But  it  was  his  curious 
fate  to  be  dragged  into  the  front  ranks  of  the 

'  Lyra  Apostolic  a,  xciii. 


The  Tractarians  and  After  349 

fray  and  to  be  singled  out  as  almost  the  most 
wicked  and  dangerous  of  the  Tractarians."  " 

Possibly  the  Tract  On  Reserve  stirred  up 
more  horrified  opposition  than  the  other 
"  inopportune "  one,  because  it  was  latently 
mystical,  whereas  Keble  dealt  openly  and 
boldly  with  mysticism,  defending  it  against 
those  attacks  which  were  the  seed-plot  of  that 
which  we  know  as  Modernism.  Keble  saw 
as  clearly  as  Newman  did  many  years  later, 
when  he  urged  the  reality  of  the  Illative 
Sense,  that  human  beings,  as  at  present  con- 
stituted, cannot  reach  conviction  in  the  human, 
as  contrasted  with  the  positive  sciences,  unless 
they  are  endowed  with  some  capacity  for  direct, 
immediate  apprehension  :  "Whitby  lays  it 
down  as  an  axiom,  That  if  Scripture  be  a 
perfect  rule  of  faith,  it  must  be  so  clear  in 
necessary  things  as  to  require  no  interpreter  ; 
and  that  it  cannot  be  a  rule  or  measure  where 
it  is  obscure.  Might  he  not  as  reasonably 
have  said,  that  it  cannot  be  a  rule  to  any  one 
who  does  not  thoroughly  understand  the 
languages  in  which  it  was  originally  written  .'' 
Such  sentiments  are,  in  fact,  inconsistent  with 
the  present  condition  of  man  :  they  deal  with 
us  as  if  we  might  be  independent  of  human 
testimony,  or  arrive  at  mathematical  certainty 
in  moral  matters."  ^ 

'    The  Oxford  Movement,  p.  67. 

»  Tracts  for  the  Times,  No.  89,  p.  1 1.      Second  edition. 


350  English  Mystics 

It  may  be  objected  that  in  this  Tract  Keble 
never  uses  the  word  mysticism  in  its  more 
ordinary  sense  (as,  to  put  it  shortly,  in  a 
well-known  phrase,  "  the  flight  of  the  alone 
to  the  Alone "),  in  the  sense  of  purgation, 
illumination,  and  union,  but  always  in  that  of 
allegory  and  symbolism.  Yet,  while  so  re- 
stricting himself,  he  is  all  the  time  aiming  at 
true  illumination  and  union  :  at  the  end  of 
the  Tract  it  becomes  obvious  that  the  whole 
of  the  natural  world  is  viewed  by  him  as  the 
veil,  the  outer  shell,  so  to  speak,  of  the  super- 
natural :  "  We  are  naturally  carried  on  to  say 
to  ourselves,  '  What  if  the  whole  scheme  of 
sensible  things  be  figurative  ?  What  if  all 
alaQrira'  (perceptions)  'answer  to  vorjra  (concep- 
tions) 'in  the  same  kind  of  way  as  these  which 
are  expressly  set  down  ?  What  if  these  are 
but  a  slight  specimen  of  one  great  use  which 
Almighty  God  would  have  us  make  of  the 
external  world,  and  of  its  relation  to  the 
world  spiritual  ? '  Certainly  the  form  itself 
of  speaking,  with  which  these  symbols  are 
introduced,  would  seem  to  imply  some  such 
general  rule  ;  '  That  was  the  True  Light '  ; 
'  I  am  the  True  Vine  '  ;  '  W^ho  will  give  you 
the  True  riches,'  taking  for  granted,  in  a 
manner  the  fact,  that  there  was  somewhere  in 
the  nature  of  things  a  true  counterpart  of  these 
ordinary  objects — a  substance,  of  which  they 
were  but  unreal  shadows — and  only  informing 


The  Tractarians  and  After  351 

us    in    each    case,    with    authority,   what    that 
counterpart  and  substance  was."  ^ 

This  passage,  with  an  earlier  one  where  he 
writes  of  the  primitive  fathers'  "mode  of 
treating  natural  objects,  and  the  truths  of 
philosophy  and  common  life,  fancying  every- 
where indications  of  that  system  2  on  which 
their  own  hearts  were  set,"  3  shows,  should 
any  need  external  proof,  that  Keble's  poetry 
was  no  mere  following  of  the  Wordsworthian 
school,  but  was  the  outcome  of  his  own 
inner  nature,  mystical  as  that  was — seeing 
a  sacrament  in  the  commonest  happening, 
perceiving  the  material  but  apprehending  the 
supernatural — and  also  the  outcome  of  his  con- 
viction that  in  the  divine  plan  the  outer  world 
is  intimately  related  to  the  inner,  so  suiting 
such  a  creature  as  man,  whose  soul,  here  and 
now,  is  housed  in  poor  "  Brother  Ass,"  the 
material  body  : — 

Needs  no  show  of  mountain  hoary, 
Winding  shore  or  deepening  glen, 
Where  the  landscape  in   its  glory 
Teaches  truth  to  wandering  men  : 
Give  true  hearts  but  earth  and  sky, 
And  some  flowers  to  bloom  and  die, 
Homely  scenes  and  simple  views 
Lowly  thoughts  may  best  infuse.  ■* 

'  Tract  89,  p.  165.      Second  edition. 

^  i.e.  mysticism.  3  Tract  89,  p.  6. 

4   The  Qhrutian  Tear  :  First  Sunday  after  Epiphany. 


352  English  Mystics 

Yet  responsive  as  Keble  was  to  the  sacra- 
mental aspects  of  nature,  he  knew  that  the 
beauty  of  this  physical  world  could  be  no 
more  than  the  mystic's  portal,  realizing  that 
the  mystic  way  to  union  must  be  paved  with 
abhorrence  of  sin  and  purgation — 

who  to  that  bliss  aspire 
Must  win  their  way  through  blood  and  fire. 
The  writhings  of  a  wounded  heart 
Are  fiercer  than  a  foeman's  dart,' 

and  surrounded  by  an  atmosphere  of  love  : — 

O  Thou,  Who  keep'st  the  Key  of  Love, 
Open   Thy  fount,  eternal  Dove, 

And  overflow   this   heart   of  mine, 
Enlarging  as  it    fills  with  Thee, 
Till   in   one   bhize  of  charity 
Care   and   remorse  are   lost,   like   motes   in    light  divine  ; 

Till   as   each    moment  wafts  us   higher, 
By  every  gush  of  pure   desire. 

And  high-breath'd   hope  of  joys  above. 
By  every   secret    sigh   we  heave. 
Whole   years  of  folly   we   outlive. 
In  His  unerring  sight,  Who   measures  Life  by  Love.^ 

The  stern  element  in  mysticism,  the  sense 
of  sin  which  makes  a  man  "  abhor  himself," 
the  need  for  mortification,  for  purgation, 
these  are  all  to  be  found  most  strongly 
emphasized,  among  the  men  of  the  Tractarian 
Movement,    by    Newman    and    Pusey.       No 

'   ibid.,  Wednesday  before  Easter. 
^  ibid.,  First  Sunday  after  Christmas. 


The  Tractarians  and  After  353 

one  who  has  meditated  on  Newman's  sermon 
on  "The  Mental  Sufferings  of  our  Lord  in  His 
Passion  "  can  doubt  his  conviction  of  the  utter 
ruinousness  of  sin.  Of  all  the  many  books 
which  Dr.  Pusey  wrote  the  most  mystical 
perhaps  is  his  EW^en  Addresses.  These  were 
delivered  during  a  Retreat  of  the  Companions 
of  the  Love  of  Jesus,  an  Order  whose  work 
was  the  offering  of  perpetual  intercession  for 
the  conversion  of  sinners. 

The  very  conception  of  such  an  Order  is 
a  testimony  to  the  dreadful  horror  of  sin  : 
some  of  the  addresses,  notably  the  fourth, 
Love  of  God  and  of  Jesus.,  God-Man.,  for  each 
soul  in  the  Passion  ;  the  fifth,  hove  of  God  and 
of  Jesus  for  each  soul:  some  special  sufferings 
in  the  Passion  ;  and  particularly  the  eighth, 
Horribleness  of  Sin,  are  saturated  with  that 
sense  of  sin  as  an  unbearable  outrage  on  God 
which  is  so  prominent  in  earlier  English 
Mystics, 

It  is  useless  to  attempt  to  give  an  idea  of 
them  by  quotations  ;  but  there  is  a  passage 
which  can  be  taken  from  one  of  the  later 
addresses,  the  ninth,  to  show  how  great  was 
Pusey's  mystical  sense,  an  influence  most 
potent  in  the  Movement,  whose  force,  because 
its  principal  leaders  were  so  inspired,  is  still 
unspent  :  "  Another  difficulty,  I  think,  comes 
to  some  of  us,  as  if  some  great  effort  was 
necessary  to  reach  God.     They  think  of  God 

2  A 


354  English  Mystics 

as  far  away,  in  the  Highest  Heavens,  in  some 
place  where  Jesus  is,  high  above  all  Heavens, 
and  so  they  go  up  and  up  in  their  thoughts 
and  they  send  up  their  prayers,  and  they  can 
scarcely  believe  that  such  prayers  as  their's 
can  go  up  on  high.  God  seems  to  them  as 
One  Who  had  '  covered  Himself  with  a  cloud 
that  our  prayer  should  not  pass  through.' 
And  yet  prayer  has  no  strain,  least  of  all,  of 
imagination.  We  pray  in  the  midst  of  God. 
For  '  in  Him  we  live  and  move  and  are.' 
His  Ear  is  ever  near  us.  It  is  at  our  heart. 
The  lowest  whisper  reaches  it.  It  is  open 
to  the  faintest  velleity  of  the  soul." 

Though  Pusey  dwelt  with  so  great  emphasis 
on  the  necessity  for  purgation,  the  same  doc- 
trine is,  of  course,  to  be  found,  in  greater  or 
less  degree,  in  all  Tractarian  teaching  ;  e.g. 
with  something  of  Father  Maturin's  relentless 
analysis  of  the  "desperately  wicked"  human 
heart,  in  Dr.  Neale's  exhortation  to  candidates 
for  confirmation  :  "  Let  your  battle  be  like 
that  of  which  the  Prophet  speaks.  Set  your- 
selves like  a  flint  for  this  ;  that  sin — the  very 
least  sin — shall  not  have  dominion  over  you. 
Set  yourselves  for  this  ;  that  Satan  indeed 
may  tempt  and  you  may  feel  ;  may  speak  and 
you  must  hear  ;  but  the  very  feeling  shall  be 
one  of  abhorrence,  but  the  hearing  shall  be 
only  that  poor  outward  hearing  which  is 
inseparable   from   us  in  the  flesh.     Set   your 


The   Tractarians  and  After  i^t^^ 

full  resolution  against  that  troublesome  self 
which  in  each  of  you  is  so  often  pleading 
for  that  indulgence  or  that  concession  ;  which 
begs  so  earnestly  to  have  its  own  way  just 
in  this,  or  just  in  that  ;  which  in  escaping 
from  the  great  city  of  Sodom,  is  ready  to 
find,  or  to  make,  so  many  little  Zoars  every- 
where." ^ 

Miss  Towle,  in  her  Life  of  T)r.  Neale^ 
observes  that  "  His  knowledge  either  of  the 
systematic  and  tabulated  mysticism  of  S. 
Teresa,  or  of  such  morbid  quietism  as  that 
of  Madame  de  Guyon,  was  not  experimental  ; 
though  his  imagination,  unfettered  by  chilling 
prejudices  or  rationalistic  disposition,  easily 
lifted  him  into  a  region  where  supernatural 
occurrences  or  heavenly  visions  were  natural 
indications  of  the  Divine  Presence,"  2 

It  is  extremely  difficult  to  interpret  this 
passage,  since  the  two  halves  of  it  seem  to 
contradict  each  other,  and  the  introduction 
of  the  word  imagination  still  further  confuses 
the  issue,  as  mysticism  is  not  imagination's 
fruit  ;  it  is  impossible  even  to  guess  what 
the  reference  to  S.  Teresa  may  mean,  for 
any  one  less  "  tabulated "  it  would  be  hard 
to   find. 

Though  the  Tractarians  were  more  latently 

'   J,  M.  Neale,  D.D.,  Occasional  Sermons,  No.  ix. 
2   Eleanor  A.  Towle,   Life  of  John  Mason   Neale,  D.T>., 
p.  292. 


356  English  Mystics 

mystical  than,  say,  the  men  and  women  of  the 
fourteenth  or  seventeenth  centuries,  yet  they 
knew  what  illumination  is,  and  their  lives  were 
spent  in  the  attempt  to  reach  union,  to  get 
beyond  the  moment  when  the  only  possible 
utterance  is,  "  Truly  Thou  art  a  God  that 
hidest  Thyself." 

Perhaps  the  reason  for  this  condition  is  to 
be  found  in  the  loss,  so  far  as  England  is 
concerned,  of  contact  with  pre-Reformation 
mystics,  whether  our  own  or  those  of  other 
countries,  and  in  the  failure  to  keep  in  touch 
even  with  post-Reformation  mystics  ;  so  that 
though,  in  the  mercy  of  God,  the  miystical 
temperament  was  not  extinguished  in  Eng- 
land, there  was  no  full  recognition  of  mys- 
ticism as  an  essential  element  in  religion,  even 
by  those  who  were  themselves  potential  or 
actual  mystics. 

To  those  who  have  gathered  the  later  fruit 
which  ripened  through  the  toil  of  the  great 
Tractarians,  some  of  the  passages  quoted 
here  may  seem  ordinary  and  familiar  enough, 
almost  truisms  indeed.  But  they  were  start- 
ling, alarming  novelties  to  the  complacence 
of  the  'forties  and  'fifties  of  the  last  century  ; 
they  seemed  revolutionary,  disastrous,  calcu- 
lated to  wreck  the  whole  existing  order  to 
those  Oxford  authorities  whom  Dean  Church 
castia^ated  so  severely  in  the  sixteenth  chapter 
of    The    Oxford  Movement ;    for    indeed    "  the 


The  Tractarians  and  After  357 

mystical  element  In  religion "  will  always 
alarm  the  conventionalists. 

By  the  courtesy  of  Lord  Acton,  part  of 
a  letter  which  Dean  Church  wrote  to  him 
explaining  his  precise  purpose  in  leaving  a 
record  of  the  stormiest  years  of  the  Oxford 
Movement  was  printed  in  the  Advertisement 
when  the  book  was  posthumously  published 
in  1 89 1.  He  thus  summed  up  the  Trac- 
tarians :  "  For  their  time  and  opportunities, 
the  men  of  the  Movement,  with  all  their 
imperfect  equipment  and  their  mistakes,  still 
seem  to  me  the  salt  of  their  generation.  .  .  . 
I  wish  to  leave  behind  me  a  record  that  one 
who  lived  with  them,  and  lived  long  beyond 
most  of  them,  believed  in  the  reality  of  their 
goodness  and  height  of  character,  and  still 
looks  back  with  deepest  reverence  to  those 
forgotten  men  as  the  companions  to  whose 
teaching  and  example  he  owes  an  infinite 
debt,  and  not  he  only,  but  religious  society 
in  England  of  all  kinds." 

Is  it  too  much  to  say  that  in  the  sphere 
of  religion,  wherever  there  is  salt,  there 
mysticism  will  not   be   wholly  lacking  .'* 

Reference  has  been  made  in  a  previous 
chapter  to  Baron  Friedrich  von  Hiigel's  plea 
that  religion,  when  it  is  entirely  sound,  is  and 
must  be  a  synthesis  of  the  institutional,  the 
intellectual,  and  the  mystical. 

As  is  well    known,  the   Oxford  Movement 


358  English  Mystics 

was  launched  at  a  moment  when  the  real  life 
of  the  English  Church  had  ebbed  away  to 
a  disastrously  low  level.  With  everything 
against  it — the  power  of  an  established  system, 
of  position,  of  wealth,  the  natural  prejudices  of 
a  nation  which  had  largely  ceased  to  understand 
the  Catholic  Church's  tradition  and  doctrine 
— still  the  Movement  grew  ;  and  those  who 
have  inherited  its  gains  are,  it  is  to  be  hoped, 
ready  in  their  turn  to  labour  in  the  work  of 
recovery  and  to  prepare  for  fresh  spiritual 
adventures. 

May  it  not  be  the  fact  that  so  clear  a  victory 
against  so  great  odds  was  due  to  the  fact  that 
these  men,  led  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  combined 
in  a  wonderful  way  intellect,  regard  for 
tradition,  institutionalism  with  a  mysticism 
which  had  too  long  suffered  eclipse  in  the 
English  Church  ^  There  had  been  abundant 
intellect  in  the  men  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
but  Dr.  Gore  reminds  us  that  "a  man  like 
Bishop  Butler  could  say  of  a  man  like  George 
Whitefield,  *  Sir,  the  pretending  to  extra- 
ordinary revelation  and  gifts  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  is  a  horrid  thing,  a  very  horrid  thing.'  "  ' 
Such  a  state  of  affairs  became  possible  when 
mysticism  had  fallen  out  of  the  recollection, 
let  alone  the  heart  and  practice,  of  excellent 
men. 

1  Charles  Gore,  D.D.,  The  Diew  Theology  and  the  Old 
l^eligion,  p.  261. 


The   Tractarians  and  After  359 

At  the  same  time  it  is  necessary  to  admit 
the  truth,  which  history  has  more  than  once 
proved,  that  unbridled,  undisciplined  mysticism 
may  easily  degenerate  into  heresy.  Yet  with- 
out mysticism  religion  becomes  empty,  dry, 
starved. 

Before  the  stream  of  published  books  had 
become  a  roaring  torrent  it  was  an  easier  task 
to  pick  out  the  mystical  writers  in  any  given 
century.  Probably  in  every  age  scores  live 
and  die  unacclaimed  publicly,  and,  in  private, 
barely  recognized  as  mystics  by  those  nearest 
to  them.  Of  those  whose  way  of  life  was 
known,  because  perhaps  they  set  pen  to  paper 
or  revealed  themselves  by  some  other  equally 
obvious  activity,  it  was  easier  to  be  aware. 
And  in  earlier  times  there  were  fewer  people 
and  everything  was  on  a  smaller  scale  than  in 
the  later  years  of  the  nineteenth  century,  when 
all  human  material  enterprise  grew  enormously, 
and,  in  particular,  publications  swelled  in 
volume  if  not  always  in  proportional  value. 

Even  so,  it  could  be  seen  by  the  discerning 
that  there  were  some  who,  if  they  did  not  live 
conspicuously  apart  like  Rolle  or  Dame  Ger- 
trude, or  inspire  a  great  movement  like  the 
Tractarians,  still  showed  in  their  writings  and 
in  their  lives  what  Baron  von  Hiigel  taught  us 
to  call  mystical  elements.  Names  slip  into 
memory  of  those  who,  were  diligent  search 
made  in  their  books,  could  be  shown  to  possess, 


360  English  Mystics 

more  or  less,  such  elements.  Among  the  poets 
were  Browning,  Patmore,  Francis  Thompson, 
Lionel  Johnson,  perhaps  ;  among  the  theolo- 
gians. Bishop  Ullathorne,  Fathers  Richard 
Meux  Benson,  Basil  Maturin,  Joseph  Rickaby, 
George  Congreve,  Mgr.  Robert  Hugh  Benson, 
and  Dr.  lUingworth. 

Only  a  mystic  could  have  written  Christian 
Patience  ;  to  realize  this  let  the  reader  turn  to 
Dr.  Ullathorne's  chapter  on  Patience  as  the 
Discipline  of  the  Soul,  the  chapter  which  opens 
with  these  words  :  "  We  have  come  to  the 
great  problem  of  our  moral  nature.  What  is  it 
to  hold  our  soul  in  our  own  possession  ? " 

The  word  may  not  actually  occur  in  the 
book,  but,  for  all  that,  Father  Basil  Maturin's 
Self-Knowledge  and  Self-Discipline  is  one  of  the 
most  searching  books  in  the  English  language 
on  Purgation  ;  it  has  the  unflinching  direct- 
ness, if  it  lacks  the  quaintness,  of  the  fourteenth 
century.  Let  a  reader  ponder  on  the  subtle, 
relentless  penetration  of  the  chapter  on  the 
"  Discipline  of  the  Mind,"  with  its  insistence 
without  over-insistence  on  the  function  in  his 
spiritual  life  of  the  intellectual  side  of  man. 
The  close  interconnection  of  the  parts  in  our 
complex  human  nature  is  so  simply  and  lucidly 
put,  without  the  professional  psychologist's 
barbarous  technicalities,  as  for  instance  in  this 
sentence  :  "  It  is  a  terrible  thing  to  let  the 
heart  live  its  own  life  separate  from  the  intel- 


The   Tractarians  and  After  361 

lect.  To  know  what  is  true  and  to  love  what 
is  false.  To  feed  the  mind  upon  one  thing 
and  the  heart  upon  another."  ^  Or  has  any 
one  shown  more  plainly  the  end  and  aim  of 
purgation  than  here  ? — "  For  the  value  ot  mor- 
tification is  as  a  means  to  an  end,  it  is  the  end 
that  interprets  and  sanctifies  the  means.  And 
the  end  is  not  death  but  life.  It  is  not  the  act 
of  mortification  in  itself,  nor  the  pain  that  it 
costs  which  gives  it  its  value,  but  what  it  gains. 
It  is  not  the  mere  giving  up  but  the  receiving. 
...  So  S.  Paul  says  of  our  Lord  :  '  For  the 
joy  that  was  set  before  Him  He  endured  the 
Cross.'  In  the  darkness  He  saw  the  light  and 
reached  towards  it."  2 

Of  Robert  Hugh  Benson's  voluminous 
writings,  two,  and  those  not  the  volumes  of 
short  stories  of  supernatural  events,  show  his 
vein  of  mysticism.  One  was  put  together 
while  he  was  still  an  Anglican,  The  Little  'Bool^ 
of  the  Love  of  Jesus^  in  which  he  tried  so  hard 
to  show  his  countrymen  something  of  the 
mystical  devotion  of  their  forefathers,  and,  if 
it  might  be,  to  win  them  to  the  like  spirit. 

The  other  reveals  his  own  inner  self :  a 
small  book  it  is  which  sometimes  seems,  so  far 
as  the  general  reader  is  concerned,  to  have 
been  washed  into  oblivion  by  the  spate  of  his 
novels,  but  which   is  the  most  beautiful  book 

^    B.  W.  Maturin,  Self-Knowledge  and  Self-Discipline. 
^   ibid.,  p.  263. 


362  English  Mystics 

he  ever  published,  The  Friendship  of  Qhrist. 
He  prefaced  it  by  a  little  statement,  This  is  my 
Friend^  to  which  he  appended  the  foot-note, 
"From  an  old  Manuscript."  One  ventures 
to  doubt  if  that  manuscript  were  older  than 
himself.  It  is  the  utterance  of  a  mystic,  and 
the  book  works  out  its  theme. 

The  Society  of  S.  John  the  Evangelist, 
Cowley,  must  well  have  known  that  their 
Founder  was  a  mystic  ;  and  there  were  doubt- 
less, beyond  the  Society's  borders,  many  who 
knew  it.  The  most  fortunate  publication  of 
his  Letters^  specially,  but  by  no  means  exclu- 
sively, of  those  to  Father  O'Neill,  have  shown 
a  much  larger  world  still  that  the  Anglican 
Church  now,  with  all  its  contradictions  and 
difficulties,  can  not  only  nurture  but  to  the 
end  keep  a  mystic. 

In  Father  Benson's  first  volume  of  Letters 
there  is  only  one  direct  reference  to  mysticism, ^ 
where,  writing  to  a  South  African  missionary, 
he  comments  ironically  on  those  people  who 
can  study  mysticism  just  because  they  look 
upon  it  as  a  thing  of  the  past,  though  "  no 
one  would  think  of  attempting  to  live  as 
people  lived  who  had  those  fanatical  ideas  !  " 

To  Father  O'Neill  he  wrote  once  on  this 
subject  :  "  We  are  so  apt  to  treat  earnestness 
of  purpose  and  orthodoxy  of  conception  as  if 

'  Letters  of  Richard  Meux  Benson,  p.  326. 


The  Traciarians  and  After  363 

they  constituted  the  two  essentials  of  the 
Christian  character.  But  really  neither  of 
them  is  of  any  good  unless  these  two  become 
one,  i.e.  unless  the  dogmatic  statements 
germinate  as  the  very  seeds  of  the  mystical 
life,  so  that  all  earnestness  of  purpose  comes 
from  the  supernatural  powers  in  which  we 
believe."  ^ 

Direct  references  to  mysticism  are  few  in 
these  letters,  perhaps  because  Father  Benson 
was  living  not  studying  the  mystical  life  ;  yet 
scattered  all  through  them  are  thoughts  and 
statements  which  only  a  mystic  would  utter. 
For  example,  he  writes,  again  to  Father 
O'Neill  :  "  To  us  upward  means  inward  :  for 
the  higher  world  is  that  glorified  existence  of 
the  Great  Mediator  Who  stands  to  us  in  the 
relation,  not  of  an  apex  to  a  triangle,  but  ot 
a  central  point  of  power  to  the  solid  sphere 
which  feels  its  motions.  Himself  '  unmoved, 
all  motion's  Source  ' — by  creative  power  in  the 
outer  world,  by  mediatorial  grace  in  the  sphere 
of  supernatural  life.  People  have  so  little 
notion  of  the  real  Presence  of  Christ  within 
them  as  the  basis  of  all  sanctity."  2 

There  is  another,  in  the  years  following  the 
Tractarians,  a  man  of  failure  the  world  must 
deem  him,  whom  I  put  last  and  dwell  upon 
briefly    here,    because,    first,   he    was    one    in 

^   Further  Letters  of  Richard  Meux  'Benson,  p.  248. 
^  Letters  oj  Richard  Meux  'Benson,  p.  156. 


364  English  Mystics 

whose  nature  mysticism  was  more  than  a 
strong  strand,  being  something  more  like  the 
woof  of  him — George  Tyrrell,  It  is  at  least 
conceivable  that  among  these  later  men  of 
whom  the  world  at  large  knows  something 
he  was  intrinsically,  however  much  circum- 
stances deflected  his  natural  bent,  as  mystical 
as  any  man  oi  our  generation.  Secondly,  1 
think  he  should  have  some  small  place  in 
a  book  on  English  Mystics  because  the  world, 
if  it  still  remember  him,  too  much  thinks  of 
him  under  another  and  unhappier  guise  ;  and, 
last  of  all,  because,  so  far  as  I  know,  though 
he  has  been  abundantly  written  about  by  not 
a  few,  no  one,  on  either  side  of  his  family,  has 
attempted  to  add  anything  of  just  that  con- 
tribution which  it  is  only  possible  for  one  of 
his  own  stock  to  give. 

To  include  him  is  not  to  stretch  this  book's 
title  to  cracking-point  ;  for  the  Tyrrells, 
originally  Norman,  settled  both  in  England 
and  Ireland,  and  George's  grandfather  moved 
from  Oxfordshire  to  Ireland ;  while  his 
mother's  ancestor,  John  Chamney  of  Shille- 
lagh, was  an  English  settler  in  Ireland  in 
Charles  II's  reign.  So  he  was,  like  most 
people  in  these  islands,  racially  a  mixture. 

He  was  equally  complex  in  character.  If 
it  be  true  that  mysticism  was  the  woof  of  his 
nature,  it  was  woven  on  to  a  warp  which  was 
hardly    sympathetic    in    all    respects    to    that 


The  Trac tartans  and  After  365 

temperament,  nor  even  homogeneous  in  itself; 
made  up  as  it  was  of  ingenuousness  and 
secretivenesSj  sagacity  and  indiscretion,  a  long- 
ing for  peace  and  security  with  a  total  inability 
to  avoid  a  fight,  the  whole  of  these  antitheses 
being  shot  through  with  a  vivid,  sudden,  dis- 
concerting, and  sometimes  devastating  wit. 
Probably  this  last  was  the  source  of  most  of 
his  troubles  ;  yet  could  his  superiors  but  have 
known  it,  it  was  no  special  iniquity  of  his 
own,  but  a  gift  shared  by  many  of  his  family. 
More  than  one  of  his  cousins  could  have 
written  that  page  in  his  Autobiography  about 
his  advancement  at  the  age  of  two  or  three 
"  to  the  dignity  of  linen  drawers,  belaced  at 
the  edges,"  and  his  indecorous  drawing  of 
attention  to  this  fact,  "  which  so  shocked 
a  bystanding  maiden  lady."  ^ 

From  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  his  life 
this  hereditary  gift  was  for  ever  landing  him 
in  disasters,  small  or  great,  because  the 
majority  of  people  fail  so  hopelessly  to  dis- 
tinguish a  shield  against  fortune  from  a  "cloke 
of  maliciousness."  Thus,  in  1903,  before  his 
worst  distresses  began,  but  when  his  path  was 
by  no  means  smooth,  he  wrote  to  a  correspon- 
dent :  "  The  death  of  my  friend  Leo  and  the 
accession  of  Pius  has  damaged  my  prospects 
irretrievably.       The   ten   days'   interim,   when 

^  Autobiograph'^  and  Life  of  (^eorge  Tyrrell,  vol.  i,  p.  14. 
Edited  and  written  by  M.  D.  Petre. 


366  English  Mystics 

there  was  no  intallible  authority  on  earth, 
were  the  happiest  of  my  life  ;  I  went  through 
a  perfect  encyclopaedia  of  heresies,  and  am 
now  suffering  from  an  acute  orthodox  reaction 
in  consequence."  ' 

While  some  can  see  precisely  how  that  was 
said,  and  what  it  meant,  and  appreciate  the 
drollery  of  it,  there  are,  unfortunately,  scores 
who  would  be  shocked  even  to  the  point 
of  being  grievously  scandalized. 

Then  again,  far  more  poignantly  really, 
though  with  apparent  lightheartedness,  in  the 
troublous  year  1907  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Bailey 
Saunders  :  "  I  have  been  so  accable  with 
affairs,  getting  excommunicated  and  the  like, 
that  I  clean  forgot  to  tell  you  that  I  am  not 
going  to  London,  and  could  not  meet  you  on 
the  26th."  2 

It  must  be  a  stupid  person  who  cannot 
realize  that  it  is  just  a  heart  at  breaking-point 
which  relieves  itself  in  that  fashion  because 
it  can  in  no  other,  yet  many  do  fail  to  realize 
it,  wherefore  perhaps  Tyrrell  and  his  like  are 
as  "stupid"  in  not  realizing  until  too  late 
that  it  is  not  well  to  say  everything  which 
comes  into  one's  head  in  the  possible  hearing 
of  everybody.  There  is  one  other  funda- 
mental trait  in  his  character  to  be  reckoned 
with  if   he  is  to  be  understood,  again  an  in- 

'   (j^orge  Tyrrell's  Letters,  p.  1 60.     Edited  by  M.  D.  Petre. 
=  ibid.,  p.  52. 


The  Tractarians  and  Aftet  367 

heritance,  that  quality  which  is  called  "  keep- 
ing the  heart  of  a  child."  In  a  delightful 
passage,  when  he  has  described  the  evenings 
which  he  and  his  sister  spent  with  their 
mother,  and  her  "  stories,  songs,  and  hymns 
of  which  she  had  a  large  repertoire,"  and  after 
chuclcling  over  his  childish  mistakes,  with  the 
assertion  that  "  Rocka  Vages  has  associations 
that  *  Rock  of  Ages '  can  never  have,"  he 
notes  this  same  trait  in  his  mother  :  "  Even 
then  our  mother,  who  kept  her  child's  heart 
and  spirits  to  the  bitter  end,  was  our  com- 
panion and  playmate,  not,  I  think,  in  that 
patronizing,  condescending  way  I  have  often 
noticed  in  other  parents,  and  which  children 
are  so  quick  to  discern,  but  with  a  genuine 
sympathy  and  temporary  reversion  to  the 
earlier  strata  of  her  own  consciousness,  being 
as  interested  and  '  real '  as  ourselves  for  the 
moment.  This  power  of  sympathy  —  of 
becoming  a  little  child — is  surely  the  great 
and  long-sought  secret  of  education  in  every 
department.  What  we  need  is  one  greater, 
wiser,  stronger  than  ourselves,  who  can  also 
become  little,  and  enter  into  us  and  then  expand 
and  raise  and  strengthen  us  ;  else  what  does 
the  Incarnation  mean  .'' "  ^  This  retention  of 
the  reality  of  childhood,  that  tremendous 
power  of  caring  for  the  very  inside  of  things, 

'   Autobiography,  p.  i6. 


368  English  Mystics 

marks  all  the  mystics,  though  we  may  not 
"convert  the  proposition,"  and  reckon  as 
mystics  all  who   have  it. 

Tyrrell  had  another  not  uncommon  mark 
of  them,  viz.  a  sense  in  childhood  of  the  near- 
ness of  the  unseen,  the  unhandled,  and  of  its 
substantiality  when  compared  with  the  passing 
of  the  world  of  everyday  life.  The  philoso- 
pher Berkeley  had  it  ;  Cardinal  Newman  and 
Wordsworth  are  other  well-known  instances. 
Tyrrell  had  it,  with  a  difference  ;  for  even 
here  his  natural  quaintness,  which  seemed  to 
some  people  like  irreverence,  entered.  In  his 
Autobiography  he  has  kept  a  record  of  it  in  his 
account  of  his  early  theological  images,  and 
of  a  certain  vision  :  "  We  had  a  moral  picture- 
book  (Aunt  Oddamadodd — euphonically  so 
it  sounded  to  me)  in  which  was  portrayed 
a  certain  Ugly  Jane^  with  her  hair  in  a  net, 
who  was  addicted  to  the  evil  habit  of  making 
grimaces  before  the  glass  ;  upon  which  a 
justly  enraged  heaven  caught  her  flagrante 
delicto^  in  the  act  of  putting  out  her  tongue, 
and  there  fixed  her  for  ever  to  the  con- 
sequences of  her  wilful  choice — surely  an 
apt  illustration  of  the  irreparable  and  eternal 
consequences  of  mortal  sin  !  Well — He  alone 
knows  why — but  that  young  lady,  dreeing 
her  sad  doom,  served  as  my  phantasm  of  God 
for  years  and  years  .  .  .  for  some  reason  or 
other    I   personified  heaven   as  an  old  woman 


The  Tractarians  and  After  369 

after  the  image  and  likeness  of  Mrs.  Meyer,i 
with  a  huge  cap  tied  under  her  chin,  and  a  red 
plaid  shawl  folded  across  her  capacious  bosom. 
One  night  I  had  a  vision  in  which  these 
personages  figured,  and  my  mother  naturally 
listened  with  interest  to  the  divine  revelations 
accorded  to  innocents  and  denied  to  sages,  till 
I  came  to  describe  the  celestial  Gamp  as  Mrs. 
Heaven,  upon  which  my  '  showings  '  were 
ignominiously  relegated  to  the  limbo  of  illu- 
sions and  nightmares,  and  my  heaven  de- 
personalized into  a  place  beyond  the  clouds, 
where  *  poor  papa '  lived  in  conditions  of 
unspeakable  comfort."  2 

Through  the  grown  man's  amused  recollec- 
tion it  is  easy  to  see  the  child's  visionary, 
personalizing  bent. 

This  is  even  more  obvious  in  his  unusual 
comparison  of  the  mysterious  influences  of  sea 
and  sky  :  "  The  sea  has  done  more  for  my 
soul,  in  the  cathartic  line,  than  the  stars.  The 
heavens  in  their  vastness  and  eternity  are  too 
inferential,  too  unreal  and  invisible,  too 
intellectual  to  help  me  to  rise  above  con- 
tingencies. It  needs  an  act  of  faith  in  mathe- 
matics and  science,  and  I  am  not  good  at  acts 
of  faith.  But  the  sea's  bigness  and  might  and 
ruthless  disregard  of  every  human  interest, 
coupled    with   its    wonderful    animation,    and 

'  An  aged  schoolmistress,  a  terror  to  him  in  his  infancy. 
^  Autobiography,  p.  18. 

2    B 


370  English  Mystics 

expression  and  character  would  have  made  me 
a  sea-worshipper,  had  I  been  in  search  of 
a  God."  I 

Whatever  men  may  think  of  other  aspects 
of  his  life  and  faith,  surely  no  one  will  deny 
that  there  was  a  large  mystical  element  in 
Tyrrell.  Brought  up  in  his  very  early  man- 
hood in  the  strictest  scholasticism,  introduced 
when  past  middle  age  to  the  yeasty  worlcings 
of  the  Kantian  philosophy,  led  always  to  some 
extent,  here  more,  there  less,  by  that  direct  in- 
tuition which  is  the  instrument  of  the  mystical 
temperament,  he  was  subjected  to  a  disastrous 
conflict  of  opposites.  It  may  well  be  held 
that  Roman  authority  could  do  no  other  than 
it  did,  though,  in  the  minds  of  a  few,  the 
question  may  lurk.  Would  Leo  XIII,  with  his 
acute  vision  and  wide  sympathy,  have  managed 
just  so  ?  But  if  authority  could,  in  fact,  do  no 
other,  no  one  can  reflect  on  its  responsibilities 
otherwise  than  with  sorrowful  awe. 

In  his  full  manhood,  Tyrrell's  mystical  ten- 
dency showed  itself  in  various  writings,  whose 
value  perhaps  will  be  more  fully  seen  when 
the  Modernist  movement  has  followed  so 
many  others  into  the  limbo  where  forgetful- 
ness  obliterates  passion  ;  writings  such  as  his 
introduction  to  an  edition  of  Mother  Julian's 
"  Shewings,"    the    chapters    on    mysticism    in 

'  ibid.,  p.  26. 


The  Tractarians  and  After  371 

The  Faith  of  the  OAiUions^  in  Hard  Sayings,  with 
its  tribute  to  S.  Teresa,  and  in  many  penetrating 
thoughts  and  visions  in  CN^va  et  Vetera  and 
Oil  and  Wine.  These,  one  ventures  to  think, 
may  remain  with  some  of  his  Letters  and  the 
Autobiography  when  Christianity  at  the  Cross 
Roads,  Mediaevalism,  Through  Scylla  and 
Charybdis  are  no  more  than  forlorn  echoes 
of  a  struggle  into  which  entered  many  blunders 
on  more  sides  than  one. 

That  he  really  was  to  be  ranked  among  the 
mystics  is  suggested  by  a  sentence  in  Baron 
von  Hiigel's  first  letter  to  him,  seeking  his 
acquaintance,  when  the  greatest  student  of 
mysticism  in  our  day  wrote  of  "  the  further- 
ance and  encouragement  that  I  have  so 
abundantly  found  in  your  Ch[j)va  et  Vetera, 
of  ideas  and  tendencies  that  have  now  for  long 
been  part  and  parcel  of  my  life,  its  aims  and 
combats."  ^ 

The  third  chapter  of  Miss  Petre's  Life  of 
George  Tyrrell  tells  the  story  of  the  friendship 
of  these  two  men,  and  gives  some  account  of 
Tyrrell's  introduction  to  modern  philosophy. 
The  thinker  who  had  been  steeped  in  S.Thomas 
was  now,  in  mid  life,  to  be  plunged  into  the 
undermining  philosophy  of  Kant,  and  into  that 
of  his  successors.  This  busy  man  was  induced 
by  Baron  von  Htlgel  to  embark  on  learning 

'  Quoted  in  The  Life  of  (^eorge  Tyrrell,  by  M.  D.  Petre, 
vol.  ii,  p.  85. 


372  English  Mystics 

German,  and  we  hear  Tyrrell's  half-irritable, 
half-amused  cry  of  impatience,  as  with  his 
usual  vehemence  he  scatters  before  him  so 
tiresome  an  obstacle  as  a  mere  unlearned 
tongue,  "  I  have  actually  begun  German  ;  but 
oh  !  what  a  language  !  Hebrew  seems  a  simple 
task  in  comparison." 

Even  more  than  in  his  writings  Tyrrell's 
intrinsic  mysticism  appears  in  the  whole  tenour 
of  his  life.  He  kne's^  there  was  Light  beyond 
all  the  entanglements  and  obscurities  and 
hindrances  of  this  world  ;  and  of  him  it  was 
most  true  porro  unum  est  necessarium.  He 
strove  after  that  far-off  Light  with  the 
persistence  with  which  a  sunflower  follows 
the  sun,  but  with  a  vehemence  all  his  own. 
I  possess  his  copy  of  The  Prayer  Book  Inter- 
leavedy  which  at  the  age  of  eighteen  he  studied, 
as  the  underscorings  and  other  markings 
indicate,  with  a  close  interest  in  all  acutely 
controversial  points.  The  inscription  in  it  is 
"George  Tyrrell,  1879,"  ^^^  very  year  in 
which  so  suddenly  he  was  received  into  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church,  an  event  which  he 
himself  describes  thus  :  "  Here  was  post-haste 
and  no  mistake  ;  from  start  to  goal,  from  post 
to  finish,  in  twenty-four  hours.  I  had  come 
out  that  afternoon  with  no  intention  of  being 
received,  and  I  returned  a  Papist  and  half  a 
Jesuit."  I 

*   Autobiography,  p.  162. 


The  Traciarians  and  After  373 

It  is  quite  easy  to  judge  such  proceedings 
unbalanced  ;  but  it  is  as  arguable  that  they 
issue  from  a  temperament  which  cares  for 
nothing  but  to  find  the  ultimate,  uttermost 
truth,  and  will  do  anything  and  make  any 
sacrifice  to  win  it  ;  and,  most  clinching  argu- 
ment of  all,  will  go  on  to  the  end,  persisting  in 
one  sacrifice  after  another  which  may  seem  to 
lead  to  the  goal,  and  this  when  failure  and 
disappointment  have  followed  previous  sacri- 
fices with  a  monotony  and  a  magnitude  which 
to  most  of  us  would  be  heartbreaking.  Let 
no  one  make  the  mistake  of  fancying  that 
Tyrrell  was  such  a  fighter  that  he  cared 
nothing  for  blows.  That  hard  temper  was 
never  his.  His  was  hyper-sensitiveness,  the 
terrible  sensibility  to  every  shade  of  pain 
which,  when  he  was  fifty,  wrung  from  him 
that  heart-piercing  cry,  "  You  do  not  know 
how  it  hurts,"  ^  which  was  written,  in  italics, 
to  an  Oxford  friend,  and  referred  to  his 
deprivation  of  celebrating  Mass, 

In  another  letter,  quoting  Thomas  a  Kempis, 
he  wrote,  '■^O^emo  tarn  cordialiter  senserit passionem 
Christi  quam  is  cut  contigerit pati  similia — at  least 
we  can  get  up  our  little  ant-hill  Calvaries,  and 
make  our  sums  of  proportion  better  than 
before.  It  is  a  better  route  to  the  knowing 
of  Christ  than  theology."  2 

'    M.  D.  Petre,  Life  of  George  Tyrrell,  vol.  ii,  p.  266. 
^  ibid.,  p.  264. 


374  English  Mystics 

The  passage  in  A  Perverted  TDevotion  where 
he  says  of  fundamental  doctrines  of  sin  and 
punishment,  "  We  are  in  the  region  of  faith 
and  mystery,  and  must  await  the  answer  to 
these  riddles  in  patience  and  humility,"  breathes 
the  true  mystical  spirit,  and  I  quote  this  sen- 
tence from  a  controversial  essay  because  it 
may  suggest  that  Tyrrell  was  a  deflected 
mystic.  He  cannot  rank  among  the  great 
ones,  but  passages  like  this  of  insight  and 
devotion,  and  resignation  and  utter  self-sur- 
render, scattered  up  and  down  his  writings — 
whether  polemical  or  not — and  his  sermons 
and  his  letters,  may  support  the  plea  which 
I  have  already  urged,  that  controversy  is  the 
sworn  foe  ot  spirituality,  and  that  however 
inevitable  the  controversy  may  be. 

Had  Tyrrell  been  placed  in  circumstances 
where  his  underlying  spirituality  could  have 
had  full  scope,  had  he  been  left  untroubled 
by  doctrinal  disputations,  theological  criticism, 
and  heady  German  philosophy,  then  English 
Mystical  Literature  might  conceivably  have 
been  enriched  by  some  treatise  not  wholly 
unworthy  to  stand  in  the  great  line  which 
begins  with  the  name  of  Richard  Rolle.  To 
concentrate  this  possibility  in  a  question  — 
What  might  not  have  happened  had  he  been 
a  Benedictine  instead  of  a  Jesuit  .''  Would 
the  different  environment  have  made  just  the 
difference  in  his  particular  case  .'' 


The   Tractarians  and  After  375 

That  he  realized  the  fatal  spiritual  loss 
involved  in  living  persistently  in  intellectual 
turmoil,  in  the  dust  and  noise  of  theological 
arguments,  is  obvious  from  his  counsel  to 
another  troubled  soul  :  "  1  can  only  say  to 
you,  '  Wait  and  be  silent.'  Read  William 
Law  and  the  mystics,  and  put  dogmatic 
problems  out  of  your  head."  ^ 

He  was  the  very  last  person  to  try  to  escape 
a  theological  difficulty  by  refuging  himself  in 
any  sloppy  emotionalism  ;  but  he  knew  that 
none  of  us  can  endure  to  "  live  with  perpetual 
burnings  "  ;  times  come  when  all  that  side  of 
religion  must  be,  for  the  time,  postponed,  laid 
aside.  "  It  remains  a  fact,"  he  writes  to  one 
correspondent,  "  and  a  regrettable  one,  that  the 
true  doctrine  of  prayer  is  not  more  generally 
insisted  on  ;  that  only  those  who  explore  the 
mystical  writers,  and  not  those  taught  by  the 
ordinary  manuals  of  religious  piety,  are  helped 
to  a  deeper  and  more  vital  conception  of  its 
character."  2 

The  reason  for  this  he  stated  earlier  in  the 
same  letter  (of  uncertain  date)  :  "  Conscience 
is,  in  each  of  us,  both  private  and  particular 
and  universal.  .  .  .  Thus  the  martyr  of 
conscience  is  the  martyr  alike  of  a  personal 
and  universal  command.  So  of  prayer.  In  it 
we  have  another  manifestation  of  this  double 

'  Letters  of  George  Tyrrell,  p.  55.  ^  ibid.,  p.  148. 


376  English  Mystics 

law.  We  pray,  but  God  prays  in  us.  We 
pray  to  what  is  without,  but  to  what  is  also 
within  us.  Thus  the  answer  to  prayer  is  in 
some  matters  and  to  some  extent  the  product 
of  prayer  itself — prayer  is  always  creative  as 
well  as  impetrative."  ^ 

However  abrupt  they  may  sound  in  some 
ears,  perhaps  the  words  uttered  one  month 
before  his  death  may  testify  to  his  intrinsic 
mysticism  :  "  I  am  glad  God  is  to  judge  me, 
and  not  any  of  His  servants."  2 

The  flame-lit  thread  of  English  Mysticism 
winds  down  through  the  centuries  which 
separate  Cynewulf  from  the  men  of  to-day. 
Through  all  the  changes,  certain  characteristics 
remain  constant,  while  others,  such  as  the 
method  of  the  nature  mystics,  vanish,  to 
reappear  later. 

Its  most  persistent  traits  are  a  very  simple 
directness,  absence  of  all  elaboration,  and  in 
almost  all,  with  the  exception  of  the  Tract- 
arians,  a  marked  quaintness,  a  wit  ready  to 
play  over  the  gravest  matters.  The  simplicity 
amounts  often  almost  to  plainness  ;  and  while 
no  one  can  accuse  English  Mystics  of  a  lack 
of  feeling,  there  is,  in  most  of  them,  an  avoid- 
ance of  those  tender  modes  of  address  which 
are    so  abundant  and  so  natural  in  the  Latin 

'  ibid.,  p.  148.  2  p.  361. 


The   Tractarians  and  After  377 

and  Flemish  Mystics.  Far  more  striking, 
however,  than  this  is  the  absence  of  raptures 
and  ecstasies,  of  exhaled  fragrances  and  per- 
fumes which  fill  a  considerable  place  in  the 
experience  of  mystics  of  other  races,  careful 
as  they  generally  are,  and  as  orthodox  writers 
on  mysticism  are,  to  insist  that  all  these  are 
really  not  of  the  essence  of  mysticism,  while 
some  forms  of  them  have  been  condemned 
as  diabolical  temptations  ;  and  further,  con- 
tests with  the  powers  of  evil,  so  real  and 
vivid  to  some  mystics  that  the  combatants  feel 
the  actual  presence  of  devils,  play  scarcely 
any  part  in  the  lives  and  practice  and  experi- 
ence of  English  Mystics. 

As  we  pass  in  memory  through  the  sequent 
ages,  the  impression  left  by  these  saintly,  elect 
English  men  and  women  is  of  people  who, 
while  giving  themselves  wholly  to  the  vision 
of  God  and  to  those  exercises  and  illuminations 
which  helped  them  along  the  way,  never  quite 
lose  their  racial  individualism  as  they  live 
and  think  and  act.  Even  before  the  great 
division  in  the  sixteenth  century,  while  all 
obedience  was  paid  to  Holy  Church  and  her 
directions,  none  of  them  feared  to  wander 
off  into  some  bypath  offered  to  the  seek- 
ing soul.  Divisions  and  controversies  have 
brought,  among  other  evils,  to  some  of  us 
an  undue  shrinking  from  spiritual  adven- 
tures,   probably    because    others    have    been 


378  English  Mystics 

tempted    to    cast    down    all    boundaries    and 
wander   egregiously. 

All  the  nations  are  destined  in  the  end 
to  "bring  their  glory"  into  the  eternal  city; 
among  them  ourselves — we  plain,  practical, 
unsystematic  English  people. 

Once,  as  history  shows,  as  I  hope  this  book 
may  partly  serve  to  show,  no  small  part  of  our 
"glory"  was  to  be  found  among  our  mystics. 
They  did  not  "  study  "  mysticism,  they  lived 
in  the  pursuit  of  the  Presence  of  God.  When 
divisions  came,  it  appears  as  if  men  blindly 
thought  that  safety  lay  in  intellectual  discus- 
sions and  the  preservation  of  a  traditional 
system,  forgetting  that  while  these  two  are 
essential,  they  cannot  have  their  full  fruition 
without  the  third  "  element  in  religion,"  the 
inner,  hidden,  mystical  life. 

More  and  more  in  the  last  two  centuries 
has  this  third  element  tended  to  pass  out  of 
English  life  ;  but  the  Tractarians  and  their 
successors,  if  they  have  produced  no  great 
work  like  Rolle,  or  Hilton,  or  Father  Baker, 
orTraherne,  at  least  practised  in  their  lives  the 
self-purgation  which  is  the  first  requisite  ;  have 
received  illumination,  and  have  come  closer 
and  closer  to  the  God  Who  hides  Himself. 

The  English  Church  has  much  to  do  yet 
in  her  task  of  rebuilding  before  the  dream 
of  reunion  can  begin  to  be  realized  ;  she 
will  not   get  very  far  on   the  way   unless  she 


The   Tractarians  and  After  379 

succeeds  in  re-establishing  firmly  in  her  midst 
not  only  the  "  religious  "  life  in  the  technical 
sense,  but  a  belief  that  some  element  at  least 
of  mystical  experience  and  practice  should  be 
the  lot  of  every  lover  of  God.  Most  of  us 
do  not  acquiesce  in  behaving  as  if  our  human 
friends  should  be,  and  naturally  are,  always 
beyond  our  reach  and  touch  ;  why,  then, 
should  we  regard  the  unitive  way  in  religion 
as  kept  for  a  few  peculiar  souls  ? 

But,  as  Father  Richard  Benson  hinted,  the 
study  of  mysticism,  so  popular  now,  is  of  little 
avail,  perhaps  of  worse  than  none,  if  it  stop  at 
a  critical,  scientific  attitude.  "  Love  is  a  life," 
wrote  Richard  Rolle  in  The  Form  of  Perfect 
Livings  "joining  together  the  loving  and  the 
loved.  .  .  .  Love  makes  us  one  with  God, 
love  is  the  beauty  of  all  virtues.  Love  is 
the  thing  through  which  God  loves  us,  and 
we  Him,  and  each  of  us  loves  others.  Love 
is  the  desire  of  the  heart,  aye  thinking  on 
that  it  loves  ;  and  when  it  has  that  it  loves, 
then  it  joys,  and  nothing  can  make  it  sorry." 

"  Aye  thinking  on  that  it  loves  !  "  Ubi  the- 
saurus^ ibi  cor.     Study  is  by  itself  of  no  avail. 

The  utmost  any  book  can  do  is  to  show 
that  some  men  have  pursued  the  mystical 
goal  to  the  last  ultimate  stretch  of  their 
powers,  and  to  suggest  that  what  they  have 
done  we  might  all  do,  if  we  only  started 
forth  on  the   path  they  followed  to  the  end. 


PRINCIPAL  BOOKS  MENTIONED 
IN  THE  TEXT 

Chapter  I 

History   of  Early   English  Literature  :    Stopford   A.   Brooke. 

2  Vols.      Macmillan. 
Elene    and   other    Poems  :     edited    J.    M.    Garnett,    LL.D. 

Ginn. 
Elene  :  translated  Prof.  C.  W.  Kent.     Ginn. 
The  Christ  of  Cyneiculf:   edited  Prof.  A.  S.  Cook.      Ginn. 
The  Christ  of  Cynervulf:   translated  Prof.  Kennedy.      Ginn. 
Autobiography  ofS.  Teresa  (in  English).     T.  Baker. 
The  Mystical   Element   of  Religion  :    Baron    Friedrich    von 

HUgel.      2  Vols.      Dent. 

Chapters  II  and   III 

Histoire  Liticraire  du  Sentiment  Religieux  en  France.     Vol.  v. 

Henri  Bremond.      Bloud  at  Gay  (Paris). 
Nos.  1 8,  20,   29    (Early  English   Homilies),  49   (An  Old 

English  Miscellany).      Early    English  Text  Society's 

Publications.      N.B.  :   not  translated. 
The  Ancren   Rizvle  (in   modern   English).      No.    20,  "The 

King's  Classics."     Chatto  &  Windus. 
The    Fire     of   Love  :     by     Richard     Rolle.       Translated 

Frances  M.  M.  Comper.      Methuen. 
The   Form    of  'Perfect  Living  :   Richard   Rolle.     Translated 

Geraldine  E.  Hodgson.      T.  Baker. 
Revelations  of  T)ivine  Love  :  Mother  Julian,  edited  George 

Tyrrell.      Kegan  Paul  &  Co. 
The    Scale    of  Terfection  :    Walter    Hilton,    edited    Father 

Dalgairns.     Art  &  Book  Co. 
The     Cloud    of    Unknozcing  :      edited     Evelyn     Underhill. 

Watkins. 

380 


Principal  Books  Mentioned  in  the  Text      381 

The    Cell  of  Self-Kiio'Vfledge  :     edited    Edmund    Gardner. 

Dent. 
Literary    and  Middle    English  :    edited    Prof.   A.    S.  Cook. 

Ginn. 
The  Dark   Night  of  the   Soul :    S.  John    of    the   Cross    (in 

English).     T.  Baker. 

Chapters  IV  and  V 

The  Inner  Life  of  T)ame  Gertrude  More  :   Father  Augustine 

Baker.      R.  &  T.  Washbourne. 
The  lVriii7igs  of  T)ame  Gertrude  5\iore.     R.   &  T.  Wasli- 

bourne. 

Holy  Wisdom  ;    Father  Augustine  Baker.      Burns  &  Oates. 

Manchester  al  Mondo.     Oxford  University  Press. 

Relizio  Medici)  p.     ™,  y,  rGolden    Treasury 

TT     fD     •  /       (  ^ir    1  nomas  Browne.   \„     .     ,,,        .,,    \ 
Urn  'Burial      J  \. Series  (Macmillan). 

The  Toems  of  Henry  Vaughan  :   edited  J.  R.  Tutin.      Tutin. 

„  ,,  „  :   Aldine  Edition.      Bell. 

The  Mount  ofOli'Ves  :  Henry  Vaughan.     Oxford  University 

Press. 
The  Poems  of  Qr ash  aw  :   edited  J.  R.  Tutin.      Tutin. 
The  Poems  of  John  T)onne  :  The  Muses  Library.    Routledge. 
The  Poetical  Works  of  Thomas  Traherne  :    edited   Bertram 

Dobell.      Dobell. 
Centuries  of  Meditation  :  Thomas  Traherne,  edited  Bertram 

Dobell.     Dobell. 
Celestial  Fire  :  edited  E.  M.  Green.     Longmans. 
Grace  Jbounding  :  John  Bunyan. 
The  Letters  of  S.  Teresa  :  Vols,  i   and  ii,  translated  by  the 

Benedictines  of  Stanbrook.     T.  Baker. 

Chapter   VI 

Liberal,  and  5\^Iystical  Writings   of  William    Law  :    edited 

William  Scott  Palmer.      Longmans. 
The  Work  of  Thomas  Traherne. 
The  Toems  ofWordstPorth. 


382  English  Mystics 

Chapter  VII 

Life  of  John  Henv^,  Qardinal  S^evitnan  :  Wilfrid  Ward. 
2  Vols.      Longmans. 

Disccurses  ta  Mixed  Congregations  :  J.  H.  Newman.  Long- 
mans. 

University  Sermons  :  J.  H.  Newman.     Longmans. 

T/ie  Grammar  of  Assent  :   J.  H.  Newman.      Longmans. 

Autobiography  :   Isaac  Williams.      Longmans. 

Academical  and  Occasional  Sermons  :  John  Keble.  Parker  & 
Rivingtons. 

Lyra  Apostolica.      Rivingtons. 

The  Christian  Tear  ;  John  Keble. 

Tracts  for  the  Times — No.  80,  On  Reserve  :  Isaac  Williams. 
No.  89,  Mysticism  attributed  to  the  Early  Fathers  :  John 
Keble.      Rivingtons. 

Occasional  Sermons  :  J.  M.  Neale.     J.  T.  Hayes. 

The  Oxford  Movement  :   R.  W.  Church.      Macmillan. 

Christian  Patience  :   Bishop  Ullathorne.      Burns  &  Oates. 

Self-Knovfledge  and  Self-Discipline  :  B.  W.  Maturin.  Long- 
mans. 

The  Friendship  of  Christ  :  Robert  Hugh  Benson.    Longmans. 

Letters  of  Richard  Meux  'Benson.     Mowbray. 

Further  Letters  of  Richard  ^eux  'Benson.      Mowbray. 

Autobiography  and  Life  of  George  Tyrrell.  2  Vols.  M.  D. 
Petre.      Longmans. 

Letters  ofQeorge  Tyrrell :  edited  M.  D.  Petre.    Unwin. 


INDEX 


Jcademical  Sermons,  339. 
Acton,  Lord,  357. 
Alfred,  King,  14,  16,  61. 
Jtncren  Rmle,  The,  62,   67, 

72-3,76-7,84-93,  103, 

121. 
Andrewes,    Lancelot,     224, 

225,  238. 
AngeW  Song,  154,  237. 
Anglo  -  Catholic     Congress, 

20-1. 
Anglo-Saxon  nouns,  17. 
Anonymous  Treatises,  65. 
Aquinas,  S.  Thomas,  240. 
Assisi,  S.  Francis  of,  311. 
Atkins,  Professor,  Gj. 
Augustine,  S.,  242. 

Bacon,  Francis,  215,  237. 
Baker,     Father     Augustine, 

178,  179-98,      200-2, 
204-7,  209,  249,  378. 

Barbanson,  189  n. 

Barlow,  Father  Rudeswind, 

179,  181. 
Bede,  28-9,  56. 

Benson,  Monsignor  R.    H., 

360,  361, 
Benson,  Father  R.  M.,  360, 

362,  363,  379. 


^eorfulj,  14,  15,  19,    20  et 

seq. 
Bigg,  Dr.  C,  294,  297  n. 
Boehme,  Jacob,  283. 
Bonaventura,  S.,  129. 
Bremond,   Pere   Henri,  59, 

69,  70,  78,  132,  198. 
Brooke,  Stopford,2  2,2  7,  32, 

34'  36,  37,  42,  51- 
Browne,    Sir  Thomas,  iio, 

178,  208,  209,210,  215- 

22,  253. 
Bunyan,  John,    177,    259- 


Cambrai,  i  79,  i  80. 

Canticles,  169. 

Cebes,  220. 

Celestial  Fire,  265-7. 

Cell  of  Self-Knot^ledge,    66, 

147,  155,  156,  i57,i59» 

169. 
Christian  Morals,  218,  219, 

220,  221. 
Church  and  Learning,  The, 

15,  56,  175- 
Church,   R.    W.,   57,   225, 

313,337,  343,  348,  356, 
357- 


383 


384 


Index 


Cloud  of  Unkno-pp'tng,  The, 
65,  96,  III,  119-20, 
122,  149-53,  157,  162, 
165-70,  172,  191  n.,236. 

Confes stones  ^,4 mantis,  269, 
Contemplation,  Short  Treatise 

of,  lOI. 
"Cosmic       Consciousness," 

251,   273. 
Crashaw, Richard,  178,  239- 

42. 
Cynewulf,  23,    25,    39-55, 

58,  277-82,  376. 

T)aily  Work,  Our,  94, 96, 1 1 1 . 
Dalgairns,  J.  D.,  316. 
Dalton,  Sir  John,  105. 
Danish  Invasions,  13. 
Dante,  206. 
Dark.  Origin  of  the  Soul,  The, 

163. 
Deor,  Lament  of  ^o. 
De  Quincey, Thomas,  242. 
Diotima,  296. 
Discourses  to  Mixed  ^ow^r^^v?- 

tions,  317,  320,  321-4. 
Discretion,   Epistle   of,    121, 

169,  1 70-1. 
Divisions,  religious,  61,  208, 

216. 
Dobell,  Bertram,  246,  247, 

295. 
Dolorous  Passion,  The,  321. 
Donne,     John,     178,    208, 

242-6. 


Ecclesia  AngUcana,  224. 
Elene,    25,   39,  43    et  seq., 

251. 
Emmerich,  Catherine,  321. 
Erasmus,  176,  227. 
Exeter  'Book,  The,  15  et  seq., 

23,  42. 
"Extroversion,"  184. 

Fenelon,  203. 

Fire  of  Love,  The,  105,  114, 

133,  I34»  138,  I40>  H^ 

153,  161. 
Flaming  Heart,  The,  239. 
Form  of  Perfect  Liying,   The, 

94,  96,   105,    119,    139, 

141. 
Fox,  George,  177. 
"  Friends  of  God,"  1 1. 

Gardner,  Edmund,  66, 

Gillett,  C.  S.,  21  n. 

Godric,  66-1. 

Golden  Sequence,  The,  265. 

Gore,  Dr.  C,  358. 

(^race  Abounding,  260,  262. 

graces  d'Oraison,  Dcs,    156, 

347- 
Grammar  of  tAssent,  The,  284, 

285,  316,  317,320,  324, 

326,  329>33i»  332. 
Gregory  the  Great,  S.,    14, 

16,  279. 
Grosart,  Dr.  A.  B.,  246. 

Guthlac,  273-7. 


Eadwine,  King,  29. 


Hales,  Thomas  de,  62. 


Index 


385 


Halt  (Meidenhad,  60,  67-8, 

71  et  seq. 
Henley,  W.  E.,  28. 
"  Hen's  pace,"  184. 
Hilary,  S.,  195. 
Hilton,  Walter,   8,  65,   71, 

76,80,98-100,  1 1  3, 1 16, 

123,     141-9,     i55-7» 

191  n.,  378. 
Holy   Wisdoniy   189,    19 1-3, 

195,  206. 
Horstman,  Dr.,  107  n.,  141, 

155- 
Hound  of  Heaven,  The,  242. 

Hutton,  Richard  Holt,  320. 

Hutton,  W.  H.,  249  n. 

Huysmans,  i. 

Idiot's  Devotions,  The,  204. 
Ignatius,  S.,  187,  193,  202, 

264. 
Illative  Sense,The,  330,  332, 

333- 

John  of  the  Cross,  S.,  3,115, 

120,  121,  162,  179,  235. 

Julian,  Mother,  33,  65, 123- 

32,  153,  ^77,  327,  370. 
Jusserand,  77. 

Keble,  John,  291,  312,  313, 

3i9»  335,  338-42,  343, 

349-52. 
Kempe,    Margery,    33,    59, 

64,  100-3. 
Kempis,  Thomas  A,   5,  69, 

205,  249,  373. 


Kirkby,  Dame  Margaret,  8, 
79-80,  105,  236. 

Lallemant,  Pere  Louis,  69, 

79,  132,  209. 
Laud,  William,  223. 
Law,  William,    3,    287-94, 

375- 
le  Gras,  Mademoiselle,  182. 
Leo  the  Great,  S.,  279. 
Lincoln    Cathedral  Library, 

104,  155. 
Little  Gidding,  225,  265. 
"  Lizards,  small,"  184. 
Louismet,  Dom  S.,  3. 
Louvain,  264. 
Luye  Ron,  The,  62. 
Lyra    Apostolica,    315,    333, 

339,   348- 

Maher,  Father  Michael,  S.J., 

82. 
Manchester  alMondo,  210-15. 
Maturin,  Father  B.  W.,  360, 

361. 
Maximus  Tyrius,  297. 
Meditation,  Qenturies  of,  246, 

250,252,  253,  295,  296, 

299. 
Mending  of  Life,   The,    105, 

109,  113,  115. 
Meynell,  Everard,  242. 
Meynell,  Professor,  283. 
Montagu,   Henry,    ist    Earl 

of  Manchester,  208,  210— 

15- 
Montaigne,  209,  215. 

C  1 


386 


Index 


More,  Crisacre,  i8o. 
More,  Dame  Gertrude,  178, 
179-207,   213,   267-72, 

359- 
More,    Sir    Thomas,     176, 

180  n.,  243. 
Mount  of  Olives,  The,  230, 

231,  232,  235. 
Mozley,  Miss  Anne,  3  i  5  n. 
Mozley,  James,  333. 
Mysticism,  meaning  of,  4,  5. 
„  orthodox,  10. 

„  nature,   11,   273 

et  seq. 
„  in  Early  Fathers, 

343,  349»35o- 

NationaUpostasy,  Sermon  on, 

312,  313,  340. 
"Natural     Contradictions," 

186. 
Neale,  Dr.  J.  M.,   -]-/,  354, 

355- 
Newman,  John  Henry,  174, 

283,285,287,  289,  312, 

314-34,  368. 
Newton  Abbot,  265. 

Ode  to  the  Setting  Sun,  277. 
Our  T)aily  Work,  94,  95,  96, 
105,  1 1 1. 

Pain,  202,  203,  269  et  seq. 
Pascal,  51. 

Paul,  S,  Vincent  de,  181. 
Personality,  21. 
Petersen,  Gerlac,  172. 


Petre,  MissM.D.,  365,  366, 

371,  373- 
Thaedo,  212. 
Philo,  3. 

Thoenix,  The,  39,  280-2. 
Plotinus,  3. 

Praise  oftheName  of  Jesus,  107. 
Prayer,  Epistle  of,  iii,  146. 
Prevost,  Sir  George,  336. 
Triyity  of  the  Tassion,  The, 

129-31. 
"  Propensity,"  184,  185. 
Psalms,  mysticism  in  the,  9. 
Pusey,  Dr.  E.B.,  3  1 2,  3 5  2-5. 

Religio  Medici,  210,  215-17. 
Republic,  The,  153. 
Tieserye,  On,  343-7,  349. 
Revelations   of  T>iyine  Loye, 
I  24,  125,  I  26,  127,  128, 

132,  153- 
Riddles  of  Cynewulf,  23,  24, 

28. 
Rigoleuc,    Pere    Jean,    122, 

209. 
RoUe,  Richard,  8,  65,  79- 

80,  94-6,    103,  104-19, 

123,  i33-4i»  H3»  H9, 
153,  161-2,  172,  177, 
237,  264,  310,  327,339, 
359,  378,  379- 

Sanders,  Miss  E.  K.,  182  n., 

343- 
Scale  of  Perfection,  The,  81, 
98,  99,    100,    117,    142, 
148. 


Index 


387 


Seafarer,  The,  31. 
Self-surrender,  68  et  seq. 
Senses,  The  Five,  82  et  seq. 
Sep  Degres  d' Amour  Sp'trituel, 

Les,  162. 
Sidgwick,  Professor  Henry, 

57- 
Surin,  Pere,  69. 
Symposium,  The,  297. 

Teresa,  S.,  1 8, 1 02, 112,158, 
170,  179,  181,  183,  184, 
186,  202,  203,  205,  236, 
239,264,  268,269,  355. 

Thompson,     Francis,     242, 

311- 
Thouless,  R.  H.,  6,  7. 
Traherne,   Thomas,   3,    11, 

178,      238-9,      246-59, 

294-301,  307,  378. 
Treatise  to   a    Devout  Man, 

147. 
Towle,  Miss  E.  A.,  355. 
Tyrrell,    Father    G.,     159, 

364-76. 

Ubi  sunt,  etc.,  77. 
Ullathorne,  Dr.,  360. 
Underhill,  Miss  Evelyn,  75, 

150. 
Univeriity  Sermons,  284,  316, 

317,  320,  321,324,328. 


Urn  -  Burial,     210,     220-1, 
253- 

Vaughan,    Henry,    li,    55, 

178,   208,   222-39,  245, 

246,  247,  327. 
Vauvenargues,  165. 
Veni  Sancte  Spiritus,26^,  267. 
Vercelli    "Book,    The,    15    et 

seq.,  42. 
Von    Hiigel,    Baron    F.,   8, 

285,    286-7,   301,    309, 

357,  359'  371- 

Walker,  Father  Leslie  J.,  S.J., 

225  n. 
Wanderer,  The,  34  et  seq. 
Ward,    Wilfrid,    284,    314, 

316,  319,  331. 
White,     Father     Richard, 

265-7. 
Widsith,  19. 

Wife^s  Complaint,  The,  32. 
Wiglaf,  25. 
Williams,  Isaac,    312,    319, 

334-7,  343-9- 
Williams,  N.  P.,  21  n. 

Wordsworth,  William,  1 1, 
290-1,  294,  296,  301- 
II,  368. 

Wyrd,  27,  34,  305. 


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